


Lucid Dreams

by FadedLily



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Fluff, I have some idea of what I’m doing, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, New York City, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 60,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedLily/pseuds/FadedLily
Summary: Part II of "Awaken Me".Carol and Therese are six months into their relationship, trying to manage the complicated tangle of work, personal struggles, and their growth both as individuals and as a couple. We'll keep the same modern AU, the same characters, and the same history. We'll add a little fluff, a little smut, and more complications.





	1. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a metaphorical tree in this chapter.

Therese walked into the bedroom with a cup of coffee that emitted thick wafts of steam into the cool room, and knowing the hurried movement of those opaque clouds would deplete its pleasant warmth quickly, Therese decided to forgo her usual habit of letting it cool for a few minutes before drinking it. She perched on the edge of the bed, her weight creating a slight dip that she thought might be enough movement to wake Carol. All it did was bring Carol’s leg a little closer to her, but she remained completely still.

 

It was already 9:30, much later than they typically slept on Saturdays, and much later than Carol’s typical weekday wake up time of 5:30. Therese had convinced Carol in the past few months to sleep in a bit on weekends, so they usually stayed in bed until about 8. Therese knew Carol wouldn’t want to sleep any longer today, since it would throw her off her schedule.

 

Carol was laying on her stomach, one arm flung overhead, her bare legs outside the covers exposed to the chilly mid-April morning air. The breeze blew in through the open window and ruffled the bottom of her loose shorts just the tiniest bit, no doubt creating a tickle on Carol’s leg that she remained blissfully unaware of. Therese abandoned her coffee on the nightstand and crouched over Carol, laying kisses first on her calf, then another every few inches until her mouth met the bottom of her shorts, then she started up the other side. Carol shifted around a little, but didn’t wake up in earnest. Therese decided to start again at one of Carol’s knees and continue up the back of her thigh, but instead of stopping where her leg met her shorts, she pulled the fabric aside and kept going until she couldn’t go any farther. Carol stirred a little more, then eventually opened her eyes just slightly when Therese had started to lift the back of Carol’s tank top to kiss her lower back.

 

“Mmmmm.” Carol let out the soft noise as she started to turn her head, looking back at Therese. “What are you doing?”

 

“Well, I was kissing your ass.”

 

Carol smiled, but was still too foggy with her lingering sleep to give Therese the little laugh she usually did when she made such comments.

 

“Aren’t you cold?” Therese was used to being warm, if not a little hot in Noelle and Dylan’s apartment. Noelle liked to keep the thermostat set at 75 degrees, even in this 60 degree spring weather. Dylan loved to bring up the fact that she was hurting the environment every time she upped the heat, which made her launch into an impassioned defense of her need for warmth and how her other environmental efforts more than made up for it. Therese didn’t complain, as she was still living with them and paid far less in rent than she would if she were living alone (and undoubtedly in a far less luxurious apartment). The company they worked for had started to expand globally, and they traveled often. Therese took care of the apartment and the cats, and much to her chagrin, had to follow the list of tasks Noelle left in order to take care of the garden she’d just planted on the roof. Therese hadn’t had a plant she was 20, when she had seen a spider plant that she thought would brighten up the apartment she was sharing with three other NYU students. She thought it was getting along quite well, but it somehow sacrificed itself to avoid her subpar care after a couple months.

 

“No, not at all.” Carol finally sat up and gave Therese a small, close-lipped smile as she studied her sipping her still-too-hot coffee carefully. “Where’s mine?”

 

“It’s in the kitchen. I don’t know if it’s cold yet but I’ll see.”

 

Therese walked into Carol’s kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a large glass filled with lukewarm coffee. She threw in some ice, then tasted it to see if it was cold enough. Good enough. She brought it back to Carol.

 

“Sorta cold. I only made it a few minutes ago.”

 

“Thanks baby.” Carol took a long sip as she kept her eyes on Therese.

 

They sat quietly for a few minutes drinking their coffee. Therese’s eyes were fixed on a tree out the window, a few precocious green leaves sprouting out ahead of the rest, which remained little buds, biding their time until it was safe to emerge without being bitten by the inevitable early-spring frosts. How bold they were. Perhaps unknowingly on a suicide mission, but unable to bear not being able to see, feel, and experience the renewed world.

 

* * *

 

“I suppose that makes sense. I can take him out next weekend.” Carol was pacing around the kitchen, still barefoot and donning her tank top and shorts. Johnson wanted her to take another potential client out, hopefully wining and dining them into the company’s eager hands. As always, Johnson showed no regard for his employees’ time, as evidenced by his calling Carol at 11am on a Saturday morning. She resented it, hating that he interrupted her and Therese’s only full day to spend together all week. Therese had begun working Sunday to Thursday instead of the typical work week due to deadlines on Monday morning for some of their printers.

 

And now, Johnson had taken to sending Carol out to recruit new clients whenever he was unavailable. Since she had half-quit at the firm and begun working directly for him, he had given her increasing responsibility, especially whenever a charming, assertive nature was required. She still had responsibilities at the firm, despite not “officially” working there anymore. Johnson effectively ignored that, always pushing Carol to completely sever ties with Harge and the firm.

 

“No, it has to be tonight. He’s in from Chicago and he flies out tomorrow at 7. It has to be tonight.” He cleared his throat.

 

“Todd, I have plans. Where is David? He hasn’t done a weekend event in over a month.”

 

“Carol. It has to be you.” He waited, as he did every time, wanting Carol to agree. She waited, wanting him to beg. One of the most important strategies she employed in order to keep Johnson under control was to ultimately acquiesce to him most times, but make him chase her for it. She also threw in a few refusals every so often to keep him in line. When the dog knows it gets a treat every time it rings the bell, it eventually gets full and moseys back for more at its whim. When the dog gets a treat _most_ of the time, but has moments of rejection, it will ring and ring and ring until the next time it gets a treat, overcome by a seemingly endless hunger, always unsure whether it will be able to eat what it covets. Carol was coveted by many, and she was used to managing it to her advantage.

 

“I can’t do this every time. I have a life outside work, Todd.” Carol said this lightheartedly, but she knew Johnson would understand that she was serious.

 

“I know. I’ll make David take on the next few outside-work meetings if you do this.”

 

Bingo. A few guaranteed free weekends.

 

She sighed. “All right. Give me the rundown.” She took a few notes on the pad on the kitchen counter. “Married?”

 

“Yes. Technically.”

 

“I see. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know how it goes.” Carol hung up without saying goodbye, then turned to stride into the guest room.

 

She had set up a makeshift studio for Therese, wanting to keep her at her apartment as much as possible even if she spent most of her time working in silence. They didn’t speak much while Therese worked, but Carol liked having her there. Her presence seemed to create a cloud of comfort, something imperceptible - perhaps a healthy dose of pheromones - that made Carol feel full and sated, yet always wanting to store up more. Therese always appeared completely unaware of Carol when she was working, often trying to fend off Carol’s unsolicited kisses whenever she wandered into the guest room. Carol loved it - Therese never played exactly into her game or met her expectations - she was always fluid and changing, evading Carol’s manipulation without any effort. She was completely unaware of it, but Carol was acutely tuned into it. She always wanted to learn more, trying to figure out how Therese managed it. A sweet and beautiful but evasive bird, calmly flying to another branch when it needed to with no hurry or panic, and no ulterior motive. Carol cradled it, coaxed it, and reveled in its effortless placidity.

 

Carol walked into the guest room to see Therese bent over the glass and steel desk Carol had bought for her, eraser shards and charcoal smears all over her pages and her hands. Carol knew Therese heard her come in the room, but she didn’t lift her head from her work. Carol leaned down until her lips were mere millimeters away from the side of Therese’s neck. She waited, breathing lightly on her and waiting for Therese to give in and acknowledge her. She still remained drawing, but had stilled a bit, making sure not to move too far out of Carol’s reach or bump into her lips. Carol knew she wanted to play.

 

“I’m having a problem.” Carol spoke softly, with a bit of desperation.

 

Therese didn’t move.

 

Carol lifted her hand to let her fingertips graze the other side of Therese’s neck, then slid her hand down Therese’s front, over the curve of her breast, and eventually down her stomach to just before the waist hem of her leggings. She could hear Therese breathing a little heavier now, but she was still quiet, her shading becoming a bit clumsily. Her pencil began to extend past the limits of her outline.

 

“Oh no, what’s happening? You seem to be coloring outside the lines, darling. Isn’t that against the rules?” She hoped this would make Therese give in. She often couldn’t resist once Carol mentioned that something was “wrong” or “against the rules.” It was one of the unexpected things she had learned about Therese - her excitement at being rebellious. It was something Carol had enjoyed her whole life - indulging her own defiant spirit when she could. She had tempered it considerably once she began running the firm, but in the past months with Therese, she had become inspired by her young boldness, wanting to bask in it with her. Working for Johnson, consulting for the firm - it allowed her to operate within her career without as many constraints as when she was responsible for running the firm. The freedom suited her, and she was even able to spend some time drawing and conceptualizing new ideas for campaigns - in her own office, of course. She let Therese stay in the studio with the other young designers, wary of the possible issues of invading her space, especially since the art department at Johnson’s company was much larger and dwarfed the small studio they had worked in at the firm. Too many eyes on them.

 

“What’s your ‘problem’?” Therese asked with feigned innocence.

 

Carol waited a minute, her lips now against Therese’s neck.

 

“I’m hungry.”

 

“And?” Therese finally turned, waiting for Carol to make a move. Carol lifted her lips and hovered them right in front of Therese’s.

 

“I’m going to make some breakfast.” Carol turned and went back into the kitchen, smiling to herself. Her little tease would pay off later.

 

* * *

 

It sometimes bothered Therese when Carol had a last minute work obligation, but she also used these opportunities to force herself to hang out with other friends, since she would usually be with Carol during every free moment. Therese spent quite a bit of time with Cory, April, and Jasmine at work, but their shared projects created a need for a constant line of open communication between them, and conversations over drinks on the weekends seemed to sometimes be the most fruitful. Since Carol would be gone until at least 11, she invited them to come to Noelle and Dylan’s, since they were away again. It was last minute, so Therese was pleased that Cory and April could come. Jasmine was off doing… whatever it was that Jasmine did.

 

Carol came click-clacking out of the bedroom, the narrow heels of her stilettos like violent spikes striking the wooden floor. She was wearing a black cocktail dress with a subtle but effective plunging neckline, just barely showing her cleavage. Therese loved Carol’s choice in clothes, always stylish and classy - but Carol had a knack for oozing sex appeal without needing to dress provocatively. Just a tease. Just how she liked to be with Therese.

 

“Are they coming over?” Carol asked as she tried to clasp her bracelet. Therese stood up.

 

“Just Cory and April. And we’re hanging out downstairs.” She finished securing Carol’s bracelet and smiled at her.

 

“And Jasmine?” Carol was packing things into her purse, sorting through what she would need.

 

“No.”

 

“Mmm. I see. Well, I need to be off. Will you come back to me tonight?” Carol came to stand just in front of Therese.

 

“Maybe. I’ll have to see.” She tried to stop herself from smiling, especially when she saw the smug look on Carol's face.

 

“Mhmm. Well, we’ll see if I let you in when you come later.”


	2. Drift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was sweet (I think), but our girls are still complicated people.

Carol walked into the restaurant and stopped in front of the maitre d’.

 

“Good evening ma’am.” He was in a stiff black suit with a jet black bow tie. Carol detested bow ties on men; she felt it made them look juvenile and overeager. When she and Harge were together, she had encouraged him to throw away the two or three that he owned, instead filling his tie rack with carefully selected pieces that she picked up whenever she ventured into the men’s department to make sure Harge was wearing something she enjoyed seeing him in. She often curated what he wore to parties and corporate events, and despite the fact that she treated him like a human mannequin, Harge enjoyed her paying attention to him and taking pride in his appearance. Carol saw him as a basic but potentially sophisticated work of art, something that had a strong, solid foundation that could be ornamented with the right frame and dressings. It was simple, satisfying, and impersonal, like shining up a piece of jewelry. She would ignore his smile as she lint-rolled the shoulders of his suits or tied his tie for him.

 

She wasn’t even making eye contact with the maitre d', instead glancing around the restaurant for the man Johnson had described. She could see several pairs of eyes, mostly male, assessing her as she stepped into view of the rest of the diners, but, being used to be watched, she kept her eyes moving systematically across suit after suit. Seeing no one of Johnson’s description seated in the dining room, she looked back at the maitre d’.

 

“I’m going to go over to the bar first.” She gave him a small, perfunctory smile.

 

“Of course, ma’am.” Carol was already walking away toward the bar, taking her time once it was in sight to be able to spot the man before he saw her. There were three middle-aged men at the bar, all with dark hair, though one had a slightly receding hairline. She sauntered over and stood next to the tall bar seat next to him.

 

“Mr. Hayes.” She let a slow, feline smile spread across her red lips as he turned his head, his dark-framed glasses seeming to magnify his curious brown eyes. He stared for a moment, then got out of his chair hurriedly to shake her hand.

 

“Ms. Aird.” He adjusted his glasses. He was attractive, but Carol detected his slight awkwardness immediately. He was about two inches shorter than her in her heels.

 

Johnson made sure to refer to Carol as “Ms.” to others since she left the firm, never wanting to imply that she was married. And she wasn’t - but Carol had grown accustomed to it, and anything but “Mrs.” still felt foreign to her ears. She could have returned to her maiden name, but she was well-known in the industry and had decided it wasn’t worth it. After all these years, she _was_ Carol Aird. Carol Aird wasn’t defined as being married to Harge, she was defined by the professional image she had worked so hard to build.

 

“Can I get you something to drink? Should I even venture a guess as to what a woman like you would drink?” He motioned for the bartender to come over while never taking his eyes off Carol. His question was asked without enough confidence to make up for its ambiguous meaning, like he was trying to be more suave than he was or would ever be. He seemed to expect a positive response from her for no other reason than that he was a man looking at a beautiful woman and attempting to charm her. She smiled, imagining how it would feel to take those glasses off his face and break each lens with her stiletto heel with surgical precision. When the bartender came over and smiled at Carol, she shifted in her seat and leaned forward towards the bar.

 

“Vodka neat.”

 

* * *

 

“We could put it on the first page.” Cody sat with one ankle crossed over his other knee on Noelle and Dylan’s loveseat, running a black stone over and over in his non-beer-holding hand. He had plucked it from the mini-Buddha statue that was surrounded by the fake black rocks you might see in a vase for a bamboo plant at a mid-level Japanese restaurant. Therese hated them, as the cats loved to play with them and knock them onto the floor.

 

April had her feet tucked under her, sitting on the long couch next to Therese.

 

“Well that defeats the whole purpose of having the two-page ad. Right?” She looked over at Therese.

 

“Yeah I think I agree.” Therese was sipping the bourbon Carol had bought for her.

 

“You look like you belong in _Mad Men_ with that. In an office somewhere smoking cigarettes with the old boys’ club talking about the secretary’s ass.” April looked over with no smile, not bothering to soften her dry and sometimes harsh sense of humor in front of Therese anymore. Therese liked drinking hard liquor now, as it was something she did with Carol. Carol typically had two drinks after work, and Therese, who was never a big drinker (and never drank anything but beer when she did), had begun to join her in the ritual. Have one drink as they moved around the apartment discarding the most uncomfortable parts of their work attire, then pour another. Move to the couch and intertwine their legs and feet, but no more, as they shared their day - or Therese just sharing hers, if Carol was too frustrated with her own. Carol watched Therese intently as she talked, and Therese always felt she was being considered, studied like a piece of fine art that could never quite be figured out. Periodically, when it felt right, she would look over at Carol and see a small, loving smile spread across her serious face.

 

Therese turned to April.

 

“Well, I’m very sophisticated.”

 

“Right.” She nodded, looking over at Cory, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

 

Therese knew they had some inkling that she and Carol were close, but Therese was sure they didn’t know they were _together_. They had told no one at work explicitly about their relationship, and it seemed that Harge hadn’t either, though Carol had told him enough so that he understood that Carol was truly taken now. Therese was never at the firm anymore, so she didn’t have to interact with him much, but Carol was there once every few weeks, and Therese knew they worked together. She never asked Carol about him, not wanting to hear anything about the state of their mildly dysfunctional relationship. She was sure that Carol had no romantic feelings for him - she never had - but she sometimes envied their shared history, knowing that Harge had shared over a decade of Carol’s life, and no matter how close she and Carol were getting, how connected they were emotionally, there was a simple, basic familiarity between Carol and Harge that would take Carol and Therese more than six months to reach with one another. But worst of all, Harge had slept with Carol, had touched her naked body, laid against her with bare skin, been inside her. It made Therese sick, a hot nausea ascending from her stomach into her throat.

 

Despite all of that, Therese had no desire to actively pull Carol away from him. Carol had an uncharacteristic soft spot for him, and Therese knew better than to force the separation that was already slowly widening as they spent less time together and worked on fewer projects together. They were drifting apart, but Therese could see some part of Carol that wanted it to progress slowly, to let Harge float away bit by bit instead of actively paddling her ship out of sight. Therese didn’t understand it, but she gave Carol the space, watching from a slight distance - she was on Carol’s boat, watching Carol’s back as she watched Harge drift away on the gentle waves.

 

The conversation about the ad seeming to have reached a lull, Therese looked over at April quickly then looked away, playing with the edge of her sock.

 

“So where’s Jasmine?” She kept her eyes on the sock, watching the black toe seam stretch as she pulled on it.

 

Cory was staring straight ahead, but spoke immediately.

 

“I think she’s out with friends from college. Her sorority people, I think.”

 

April rolled her eyes.

 

“I can’t _even_ with that.”

 

Therese let out a small laugh. Of course Jasmine had been in a sorority. The things that would normally make a girl insufferable to Therese - the bounciness, the bright, sunny clothes, the fact that she enjoyed nearly every stereotypical straight-girl activity that existed - were somehow easier for Therese to accept in Jasmine. She was secretly likable - she had an edge, the ability to be sarcastic and witty, and a thinly-veiled rebellious streak. Despite everything about her that screamed perfection, she had several undeniable and unrelenting vices - black coffee, smoking the occasional cigarette, and chasing women. She was effortlessly beautiful, her smooth, tanned skin and shiny dark hair making her look like something out of a magazine, even on Sundays, the only day when she showed up to the studio with her hair up in a messy bun and no makeup. She seemed to have backed off Carol in recent months, which allowed Therese to like her even more.

  
Cory leaned back on the couch, then something seemed to catch his eye.

 

“Is that a hookah?”

 

Therese got up off the couch, going over to prep Noelle and Dylan’s comically large, multi-stemmed monstrosity.

 

“I’m surprised it took you this long to notice it.”

 

* * *

 

Carol pushed into her apartment just after 10:30, having been able to limit the after-dinner drinks with Hayes to two. It was dark and cool, with only a light glow of moonlight coming in through the glass windows. The clouds moved lazily over the moon, obstructing it periodically. She immediately went to her bedroom and unzipped her dress, both arms twisted behind her to work the deep-set zipper. Now only in a bra and underwear, she went to her dresser to get a tank top and a pair of shorts - starting as soon as the spring began, she wore skimpier summer pajamas to try to combat her constant hotness. She was about to take off her bra, but reconsidered and threw the shirt on over it. She went back to the kitchen to grab her phone, practically running back to bed.

 

C: How’s my sweet girl?

 

T: Good. Tired. I drank three glasses of that bourbon you gave me.

 

C: Well, aren’t you the little lush? Why don’t you come see me?

 

T: I’m in bed, trying to sleep.

 

Carol smiled to herself, wondering if Therese was even undressed from her day, nevermind actually in bed. Therese wanted Carol to come to her or to have to admit outright that she needed to see her.

 

C: No you’re not.

 

T: You can come see for yourself.

 

Carol rolled her eyes, knowing Therese wouldn’t come to her. She changed into a pair of yoga pants and put on a sweater over her tank top, not wanting to look like a Playboy bunny at a sleepover on the elevator.

 

When she knocked on the door of 1723, there were a few moments of silence. When Therese opened the door, she was smiling, clearly unable to stop herself, still dressed in her leggings, all the lights on, music still playing softly in the background. Carol cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow, pushing Therese aside to come in.

 

“I knew it.”

 

Therese closed the door and leaned back on it.

 

“Well well well. Look who came knocking on _my_ door.” She walked into the kitchen and hopped up on the counter, her legs dangling over the side. One of her heels hit one of the cabinet knobs, and she yelped.

 

Carol came over to stand between her legs and smiled.

 

“That’s what you get.” She moved forward, putting her hands behind Therese to pull her even closer, then started running her hands up and down her thighs as she moved her lips closer to Therese’s. She waited, and Therese opened her eyes, still just far enough away to be able to focus on Carol’s. Therese kept looking, waiting for a command. Carol finally whispered.

 

“Come.”

 

Therese leaned in and pressed her lips to Carol’s violently, letting out a little moan as she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do share your thoughts, my friends. :)


	3. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love, because it's Valentine's Day. I have crafted some fluff, but pay attention, because I've sprinkled in important details. :)
> 
> Happiest of V Days to all of you lovelies.
> 
> **This entire chapter is a series of flashbacks, starting with the oldest and working our way forward until now (well, a few months before our ladies' six-month mark). I have marked whether the flashback is from Carol or Therese. Let me know if there's any confusion and I will do my best to clear it up. :)**

_Carol_

_October 2002, Middletown, Connecticut_

 

Holly rolled off the side of Carol’s twin sized bed, turning back to smile at Carol as she readjusted her shirt. It was only 7am on a Sunday, and Carol was laying naked in the bed, enjoying the cool breeze coming in through the open window - well, as open as it could be considering the locks that prevented the window from going all the way up. Her room was only four storeys up, but apparently that was high enough for the school to worry about a hopeless student trying to end their sorrows. Carol stared at the window, imagining how anyone could feel despair in a world where love like this existed. If you wait, it will come to you - and when it does, no one, _nothing_ can stand in its path. Her parents, whatever obstacle tried to pop up between them - it was miniscule compared to the colossal feeling that filled every part of her heart.

 

Carol watched Holly walk over to her overnight bag and start rifling through for clothes. She loved that Holly bothered to pack clothes in an actual bag when she lived just across campus.

 

“Come back here.” Carol flipped onto her stomach, rested her chin on her forearms, and smiled at Holly, her bed-ruffled blonde hair falling into her face.

 

Holly considered it for a moment, then turned back to her bag.

 

“I have so much work to do. I’d love to lay in bed and have you fuck me all day, but I’m going to fail out of school if this keeps up.” She looked back at Carol with eyebrows raised, as if daring her to argue with her. Carol knew she was right; they both had an immense amount of work to do and Carol had a paper due at 8am the next day that she had been putting off for weeks. But really, she always waited until the last minute, and she always pulled it off. If she had to stay in the library late finding sources so that she could come back to her room to write the damn thing until 6am, then so be it. This perfect girl leaning over in front of her eyes, as if putting on a show just for her, was worth any all-nighter. All she could think about right now was the warmth of the bed, the smell of Holly’s hair still on her pillow, and her unending gratitude that her roommate had transferred and left her with her own room.

 

Carol was going to get her way.

 

“Hey.”

 

Holly looked back, a slow smile creeping onto her face. Carol stuck her bottom lip out, willing to look pathetic as long as it got Holly back in her arms. Holly rolled her eyes, smiling, and came back to the bed, sliding under the sheet Carol held up. Carol pulled Holly’s leg over her hip, both on their sides, and slid her arms under her to pull her in. She moved her face right in front of Holly’s and smoothed the hair back from her face.

 

“I love you.”

 

* * *

 

_Therese_

_March 2009, Guilderland, New York_

 

“I’m not completely surprised.”

 

Therese’s mother was looking at her calmly, her wavy brown hair pulled back loosely. Her airy peach blouse hung loosely over her petite shoulders, the black, thin-banded watch Therese had never seen her without around her wrist, looking like it could finally give in to its constant battle against wear and time itself at any moment and slip off her mother’s small wrist. Her eyes looked at Therese patiently, as if she could wait all day for Therese to speak again. Therese was fairly surprised by this revelation, and was afraid to ask her next question, but her curiosity was too strong.

 

“Why? You knew?”

 

“No, I didn’t _know_. I just remember being 19 and not being able to think about anything except the idea of falling in love and wanting boys to chase me. I don’t see that in you. Not that I expect you to be exactly like me - but it just felt different. You’re a beautiful girl, so I’m sure boys have noticed you. But I wanted to let you take your time. And, honestly, I wanted to take my time to get used to the idea, as well.”

 

Therese had assumed she would cry during this conversation, but she found herself strangely calm and even. She didn’t want to take the conversation any further, at least for today. This was enough for both of them. Her mother didn’t ask if there was anyone already in her life, and Therese probably wouldn’t have told her anyway. Her mother never looked away from her, a soft but serious expression on her face. In the small kitchen, with its dark counters and the dark wood table at which they sat, the faintest bit of what remained of the dusk light struggled in through the window above the sink, giving her mother’s light blouse a slight luminescence. Her mother reached her small hand over to Therese and laid it on top of hers.

 

“I love you.”

 

* * *

 

_Carol_

_July 2010, New York City_

 

Carol came in to the office at almost 10am, more than two hours after she usually arrived. As she walked towards the back to her office, she felt a few quick glances from the open working floor, but they were few. She knew they would notice she was arriving late - in fact, they always noticed her even if she was just walking across the office - but she also knew no one would comment. That is, until she had gone into her office and they were free to gossip about why the obsessively punctual Carol Aird could possibly come strolling in so late. She was wearing a black wrap dress that tied at the waist, leaving a very small, almost unnoticeable strip of bare skin between where the dress tied and the top hem of the rest of the skirt. It was something she would ordinarily never wear to the office, as both the visible midriff and fairly low-cut V-neck shape revealed more than she liked. It was a dress she would wear in her daily life, and in fact, was somewhat modest compared to what she usually wore outside the office, but tight and revealing nonetheless. But it was ninety degrees outside, and the dress was comfortable. She could feel just the slightest sheen of sweat on her chest and between her thighs already, despite the air conditioning in the office.

 

When she got to her office, she dropped her work bag heavily on the floor and dropped into her upholstered, straight-backed cream office chair. She had a conference call to join and several long emails to write, but she was exhausted. As she forced herself to place her slender fingers against the keyboard, she looked down at the red manicured nail on her left ring finger. It was just the _slightest_ bit chipped, a tiny and probably imperceptible to anyone else spot of open, free bare nail. A tiny window that she knew would only grow over the course of the day. Her brain kept running away from her into some distant dimension, something hazy and humid descending over her brain in a thick, opaque cloud. The words on the computer screen looked meaningless and unimportant. She picked at the chip on her nail, making the spot of bare nail just a little bigger. She smiled, closing her eyes, and knowing no one could hear her, whispered to herself.

 

“ _I love you._ ”

 

* * *

 

_Carol_

_February 2015, New York City_

 

“Oh, shit.” the girl tripped over the seam in the floor on the threshold between inside Carol’s apartment and the hallway. She laughed, Carol smiling and rolling her eyes out of the girl’s field of vision. Carol flung off her coat and worked her way into the kitchen. She could feel herself swaying a bit, swinging her hips left and right for the effect as well as to stretch her hip muscles. She’d been standing all night, first at the bar and then dancing with the girl, drinks in hand on the dance floor as if she were 20 again. Her red dress felt suddenly binding, its bottom seam spread tightly across her upper thighs and the tight ruched bodice pushing her breasts up but also forcing the air out of her lungs. She wanted to get out of it, and she knew she would be able to momentarily.

 

“Drink?” She looked back at the girl, who was already wandering around, and had stopped to finger a bouquet of white lilies on the counter.

 

“No, I don’t think I need one.” She moved towards Carol, who closed the distance quickly and pushed her against the nearest wall. When she started running her hands over her body and pressing herself into her, the girl let out a deep sigh.

 

“Julia.”

 

Carol had been surprised at first at how many girls liked to say “her” name while they were fucking, Carol herself having not said anyone’s name in the throes of passion for quite a while. With Harge, she preferred them both to be silent, trying to stay lost in her own fantasy world whenever they had sex. But she was used to it now, and it had started to excite her - she was who she told them she was, and none of them even thought to question it. She knew it was risky bringing a girl to her apartment, mail with her name on it sitting on the counter, the possibility of Harge walking in at any moment - but the girl was distracted and tipsy, just like Carol, and Carol was too starving to deny herself. The girl started talking distractedly.

 

“I shouldn’t be here. I don’t usually do things like this, but I think I’m just lost. I just broke up with my girlfriend and I just saw her out with some other girl."  _Jesus Christ._ Carol had no interest in hearing this girl’s life story, cursing herself for bringing her back to her apartment, which would make it all the more difficult for Carol to escape once they were done. “I know I shouldn’t be going home with some random sexy woman from a bar but… I couldn’t help myself.” _That’s better._ Carol smiled, grateful for the perfect segue into something less heavy.

 

“And why is that?” She finally let her fingers slide along the hem of the girl’s underwear. She gasped as Carol started moving her hands, but turned her head just slightly back toward Carol.

 

“I want to feel numb to her. Haven’t you ever been in love?”

 

* * *

 

_Carol & Therese _

_November 2017, New York City_

 

Carol sat on the bed, her back against the headboard. She had already ditched her clothes, wearing only a black bra and underwear. She was impatient, frustrated, and already uncomfortably turned on. Therese was still in the bathroom, clinking around at the sink. She had just spent ten minutes grinding herself on top of Carol on the couch, moaning in her ear, giving Carol all the typical signs that she was dying to go to bed. When Carol finally pushed Therese upwards, she moved to stand up, forcing Therese to get off her first. She made direct eye contact with Therese.

 

“Go.” She motioned towards the bedroom. She wasn’t asking, she was telling. Once Carol turned off the lights in the living room and made her way in the bedroom door, lifting her tank top overhead and stripping off her yoga pants, both put on an hour ago with the intentions of relaxing on the couch, she saw that Therese had snuck into the bathroom. _What the fuck._ She got into the bed and waited.

 

When Therese emerged, she was completely naked, smiling.

 

“Get over here,” Carol breathed, intending to sound more commanding than she actually did.

 

Therese straddled her, pulling the covers off Carol’s lap so that she could rub herself against Carol’s silky underwear. She was the one setting the pace, forcing Carol to kiss her slowly despite Carol’s obvious impatience, highlighted by the tight grip Carol held on Therese’s hips, making sure she couldn’t break contact with Carol. Therese broke their kiss and looked at her.

 

“It’s never felt like this before you. Ever.” Carol understood what she meant, and somehow the statement dulled her overeager arousal just a bit, letting it mellow into a shapeless mist of potent but diffuse desire. She thought of something and stopped moving. She stilled Therese’s hips against her, moving her hands up to the sides of Therese’s arms, slowly stroking them up and down. She eventually turned towards her nightstand, opening the bottom drawer and then the top, closing both softly. She emerged holding her red dildo and the black leather harness that had been sitting in the top drawer for months. She swallowed, feeling incredibly exposed and self-conscious as she held them out for Therese.

 

“Please.”

 

Therese looked down at them, then back at Carol. As she took them from Carol’s hand, she leaned forward to kiss Carol’s cheek.

 

The moment Carol felt Therese slide into her, she looked up to meet her eyes. As Therese stilled inside her, filling her, Carol unnecessarily gripped her, begging her to stay. Therese smiled and moved closer to Carol to whisper.

 

“I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I hand it over to you so I get to enjoy all your wonderful thoughts.


	4. Grind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working girls.

When at the office, Therese spent most of her time in the studio, surrounded by the buzz and hum of the rest of the art department. People laughing, phones ringing, keyboards clicking. She swore she could even hear pencils shading on paper and the quiet breathing of the people around her. Even in relatively calm moments, there was no break from the inescapable white noise. She sometimes walked around the office just to fill her ears with different noises - if she couldn’t have quiet, she could at least take in a slightly different stimulus. Plus, Carol’s office was now centrally located, and she would often walk by to take a peek inside the always partially open door, never stopping but once in a while catching Carol’s eye.

 

Therese always came from the same direction so she could see into the more open side of the door, which left a straight line of sight to where Carol sat at her desk. Today, when she looked in, she saw Carol bent over her desk, the reading glasses she wore only when she was alone in her office slipping slightly down her nose, blonde hair hanging on either side of her face and dangerously close to grazing the desk’s surface. She did not look up, and Therese knew she wouldn’t - she was entirely engrossed in whatever she was doing. In a way, she liked to see Carol engaged in her work even more than she liked to catch her eye. She was in her flow, oblivious of the outside world, indulging that part of her that still bloomed with the creativity that she had been unable to continue exploring when she had been running the firm.

 

As she rounded the corner leading to the kitchen, Johnson came strolling quickly and confidently down the hallway.

 

“Miss Belivet.” He stated her name with a slight inflection, and Therese knew he was going to stop to talk to her.

 

“Mr. Johnson.” She smiled.

 

“I keep telling you, you _don’t_ have to call me that. It makes me feel like I’m about a hundred years old.” He looked down at her with a slight, genuine smile. The light from the window hit his angular face from the side, the other side in shadow. He cut a distinct line in profile, his sharp but straight nose highlighting the symmetry of his features. He really was an attractive man, Therese mused. Not something to be desired, but just something to appreciate for its effortless example of how nature could create such a pleasing countenance. “Come to my office. Go get those things that are due at the end of the week.”

 

Therese walked back into the studio and gathered the messy pile of papers on her desk.

 

Jasmine looked up from her desk. The studio was filled with desks in pairs, each separated with a pane of opaque glass that only reached a foot or so up from the desk surface, so that you ended up seeing just the top half of the face of whoever sat opposite you. It was a strange and at times incredibly awkward arrangement, but Therese had grown used to looking over it at Cory as he was either furiously writing with head bent, and thus invisible to Therese save the shadow of his spastic hand moving back and forth on paper, or staring off into space as he worked on something on his computer. Jasmine sat across from April in the set of desks next to them, with Jasmine on the same side of the glass separators as Therese. They had full view of one another, and Therese had come into the habit of seeing what Jasmine was wearing everyday in an attempt to inform her own mediocre fashion. They had slightly different body types - Jasmine was taller, and her legs a bit more curved than Therese’s, but otherwise she felt that she could probably pull off most of what Jasmine wore. Then again, Jasmine could probably wear a burlap sack and still look like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. Therese had only ever seen one woman more beautiful in her entire 27 years.

 

Therese was about to walk away with the stack of papers when Jasmine decided to speak.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Johnson’s office.”

 

Jasmine looked over at April to see if she was looking up. She wasn’t.

 

“Oh okay.” She looked back down, making no other comment.

 

* * *

 

Johnson sat staring down at her work, his brow slightly furrowed. Therese had grown used to sitting in his office enduring long bouts of silence. Like he had during their first meeting at the Rose Bar, he considered the work silently, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Therese had been sitting there in silence for almost ten minutes. He pointed to one piece of paper with his finger, still looking down at it. Therese waited until he finally looked at her and spoke.

 

“This first set - these 6 or 7 - that’ll work. These next few are good but I don’t want you to waste any more time on them. Sixty-eight percent of sales on this particular publication are to the 18-29 demographic. They’re into the hand drawn stuff now. You know, imperfections, inconsistent font styles. Part of the hippie thing. So just table these digital prints for now.”

 

Therese always had an indefinable feeling of apprehension when Johnson asked her into his office, but she often learned snippets of helpful information like this that would ultimately save her a lot of time that would otherwise be wasted working on things he was just going to push aside anyway. Johnson finally emerged from his work-centered concentration and looked out the window briefly as he leaned back in his swivel chair. This signaled that they were about to move on to an unrelated topic.

 

“I don’t know how to organize this next project. We need more communication between teams. I collect work from all departments separately and give individual feedback, but you aren’t talking to _each other._ ” He was still staring out the window, talking more to himself than to Therese. “I want a couple people from each department to work as cross-functional teams. I’ll do it for a month. See if it helps at all.” He slowly woke himself from his one-sided conversation and looked at Therese. “You ready to emerge from the studio cave once in a while? Get some sun in the open office? Though you probably don’t want to ruin that porcelain skin of yours, either.” He gave her a genial smile.

 

* * *

 

When Therese returned to her desk, she threw the papers down carelessly and sighed as she got herself settled again.

 

“How’d it go?” Jasmine asked with a look of genuine interest and expectation on her face.

 

“Fine. Oh by the way, he wants us focusing on hand drawings, not digital. He didn’t say outright that he wants _no_ digital work, but… he doesn’t want any digital work. Don’t waste your time.”

 

She looked over to see just the top of Cory’s head and April sitting cross-legged in her chair with her giant headphones on. Therese snapped her fingers, waving them around trying to get their attention. April caught the movement and slid one earphone off.

 

“What?”

 

“Stop working on digital.”

 

April went back to whatever she was doing, and Cory looked up for a moment, paused, then went back to writing hurriedly.

 

A few minutes passed in which none of them spoke, and Therese was just entering the space of focus she needed to be in, like the feeling of finally drifting into sleep, reality and your dreams doing a dance for dominance as your rational brain slowly lost the battle.

 

Jasmine’s voice startled her.

 

“Why don’t you guys come to my place on Friday? I know I’ve missed the last few times you hung out.”

 

When Therese looked up, she saw Jasmine looking right at her.

 

Cory and April had somehow heard her despite their cluelessness. Therese marveled at whatever cloud of magnetism surrounded Jasmine that made people pay attention - and _want_ to pay attention - to every word that came out of her perfect mouth.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Cory looked back down. April just nodded.

 

Jasmine still had her eyes on Therese.

 

“So?” She waited.

 

“Sure.” Therese smiled weakly at her.

 

* * *

 

Around 2pm, Therese hit her usual afternoon slump, and got up from her desk to walk towards the small kitchen in the back of the office. There was a larger kitchen with tables and windows in the center of the office where whoever didn’t stay cooped up at their desk usually ate lunch, so the small kitchen in the back had just a refrigerator for drinks and the coffee maker that had the espresso attachment. Therese made sure to walk by Carol’s office again, which wasn’t even suspicious this time since it made sense to walk by on her way to the back kitchen. This time, Carol was still at her desk, but she wasn’t bent down, she was on her computer with her eyes up and forward. Therese could just barely see the side of her face and the corner of her right eye, it’s outer acute angle offset by the rounded edge of her glasses.

 

When she went into the windowless kitchen, she pulled the espresso powder out of one of the top cabinets, having to reach for it on her tiptoes. She finally got her fingers around it to pull it forward and it almost came tumbling on top her her, but she caught it just in time. _The world is height-ist_ , she thought. There were already little coffee ground crumbs littered across the counter from others who had come in to get their caffeine fix at different points in the day, the presence of the coffee grounds exacerbated by the lightness of the granite countertop. Despite the abundance of grounds, she rarely saw anyone in this kitchen at the same time. Perhaps it was due to the habits people so often fell in to, especially at work - 2pm was her espresso time, but perhaps the other small kitchen-users had different times, them all working on a predictable little schedule that allowed them each quiet time despite sharing this space - and the experience of coffee granules sticking to their hands whenever they grazed the countertop.

 

She was busy evening the espresso in the handle and didn’t notice the clacking sound of footsteps approaching until they were right behind her. She was securing the handle in place, and didn’t want to drop it before it was set, so delayed the immense desire to turn around for just a few seconds. A voice drifted into her ears.

 

“Some of us are waiting, you know.” Carol’s voice was impatient but tinged with mischief. Therese was about to turn around when she felt herself bumped against the counter, the entire front of Carol’s body having made contact with Therese’s back for just a moment, with just enough force to push her against the counter lightly. Therese turned and placed her hands at her sides on the counter and kept a straight face.

 

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Can you forgive me?”

 

Carol moved forward again and pressed Therese’s lower back against the drawer handle, sending a slight, dull pain into Therese. Therese had grown used to having small bruises on different parts of her body, as Carol seemed to enjoy pressing her into things.

 

“Why should I?” Carol didn’t wait for an answer. She pressed her lips into Therese’s firmly. Her knee-length gray dress was made of a sheer, clingy material, and it created a quiet rustling and a slight resistance as it rubbed against the cloth texture of Therese’s sweater, certain fibers catching on one another like little velcro arms, keeping them together. The feel of Carol’s body against her, their rough fabrics creating moments of tension where they had to use the force of their bodies to rub their way past one another, the way Carol bent her knees slightly so that she was at the height where she was pressing her cunt into Therese’s forcefully - it was creating a throbbing in between her legs that was threatening to force her to involuntarily slide Carol’s hand into her pants just for some relief. Suddenly aware of her surroundings, Therese looked over to the door to the small kitchen, which was propped open by a wooden block.

 

“The door is open.” She pulled back to look at Carol’s face. Carol looked down at Therese’s lips.

 

“So? It’s kind of…” she leaned her head down to kiss Therese’s neck just under her ear. “Exciting, right?” Despite this, Carol walked over and kicked the wooden block from in front of the door and let it close, holding the edge of it as she let it reach its resting place smoothly so as to not draw attention to its closing. When she walked back to Therese, she stopped just in front of her. Therese smiled and pursed her lips.

 

“I think _you_ think it’s exciting.” She smiled at Carol, who leaned in closer.

 

“Mmm. Yes, I think you’re right.” She kissed Therese again, this time for longer. Therese could feel Carol’s tongue grazing her lips gently, but Therese kept her lips closed until Carol pulled away.

 

“Let me in.”

 

Therese looked back at her.

 

“I don’t want to feel your tongue anywhere inside me right now.” Carol gave her a half-hearted laugh that was ultimately extinguished by the heavy breath she let out. Carol stopped and stared at her for a moment.

 

“Well I _know_ that’s not true. I know exactly what you want. Maybe I’ll give it to you later.” She leaned in to Therese’s ear, and whispered so she was just barely audible.

 

“ _Maybe I’ll make you beg me for it._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol, I'll be waiting in the back kitchen.


	5. Marauders

Therese woke up to the sound of car horns, each of them drawn out like hideous blares that made no difference in easing the traffic, instead only giving impatient drivers the satisfaction of outwardly expressing their anger at something unchangeable. Why is it so easy to see the futility as an outsider, but so difficult to resist revolting when you’re in the thick of it, desperate to claw your way out? She picked up her phone and saw that it was only quarter to six. She always set her alarm for 6:30, knowing she would have just enough time to get ready and be at work by 8:00. She usually didn’t work on Fridays since she agreed to start working on Sundays, but there was a lot of work to be done and she would have had nothing else to do except lay around with the cats, thinking about work anyway. She wasn’t surprised to see Carol’s spot empty when she turned over. Carol had thrown the covers over her empty spot, something she always did even when Therese was still in the bed - her neatness extended even to “half” making the bed. Therese slid over into where Carol had been and buried her face in her pillow. She could smell Carol on it. It was rare that she caught Carol’s scent without perfume or shampoo mixed in, but this pillow was _just_ her. It made her heart flutter.

 

Therese looked out the window and tried to conjure the image of the nonexistent tree she liked to imagine ran straight through the center of the window’s view, a seemingly endless trunk, untouchable in its strength and an eternal embodiment of what couldn’t be erased in this world. Some things had lived long before any of them, and would continue on after, alone but patient in their longevity.

 

She decided to just get up and hopefully have a more leisurely morning instead of rushing around to get clean clothes - which she sometimes had to go all the way down to 17 to get if she had forgotten to bring any with her whenever she came up to Carol’s late at night. Maybe she could even take the time to make her liquid eyeliner even instead of a tiny vibrating line that danced across her lid. Carol would typically already be dressed and ready to go by 7:30, sitting around drinking her coffee and reading the newspaper or organizing her work bag. She tried to time her coffee-making to just before Therese would be waking up, working in the 5 extra minutes after it was done to let it cool to the temperature Therese liked it at.

 

When Therese walked out of the bedroom, making her way towards the kitchen, she saw a light coming out of the guest room “studio” and stopped to push the half-open door wide open. Carol looked up, her glasses making her look like something out of a sexy librarian fantasy. Carol smiled at her. They often found that they could forgo words, always communicating as much as possible through looks and touch. It felt natural, like an unspoken agreement they had never needed to negotiate - two streams that met seamlessly as they combined to form a stronger current pushing forward, having no need to coordinate or even understand how the commingling happened so fluidly.

 

Carol pushed the chair away from the desk and put her pen down, and Therese walked over and sat on her lap. Carol started placing little kisses along her spine. Therese ran her hands over the surface of the desk.

 

“Look at how clean my desk is.”

 

Carol placed her hands on Therese’s hips.

 

“ _Your_ desk? Hm. Well, you’re a messy girl. You somehow even managed to get the corners of these books wet. I had to clean it up.”

 

Therese decided to ignore the comment, knowing Carol knew how much she appreciated the periodic cleaning. She started looking closely at what Carol was working on. They were small, almost unbelievably meticulous drawings, a sequence of related but decidedly distinctive images. Such concrete detail mixed with the ephemeral could only be drawn by someone with exceptional perception in both the minutiae of the physical world and the intangible undercurrent of the human mind.

 

“These are incredible.” Therese cocked her head, looking at them from several angles. “You should be teaching me more.”

 

Carol pushed Therese off her and stood to push the chair under the desk. She came within an inch of Therese’s face and whispered.

 

“I’m teaching you plenty.”

 

* * *

 

When Therese finally emerged from the bedroom ready to go, Carol stood from the table and brought her mug to the sink. She held out her hand to take Therese’s from her and rinsed them in the sink, placing them in her careful line of mugs, handles all faced the same way to secure them on the dishwasher rack. A beautiful bit of organization in this chaotic world. Therese was swinging her messenger bag over her shoulder with momentum, and it banged on her hip as it finally came to a halt.

 

They were always silent when they walked down the hallway to the elevator, then usually began speaking again once within its confines. Carol sighed lightly.

 

“What are you doing this weekend? I already agreed to play tennis tomorrow morning with some woman in the finance department the other day.” Carol had never been one to actively seek out friends, but it wasn’t for lack of offers. She had been working with this woman to price out a new design software system, a task that seemed completely random - but Carol’s job had become a mishmash of responsibilities, from tech, to making management decisions, to designing, to schmoozing clients. Luckily, she moved easily through roles, laying one hat down carefully as she picked up another, sometimes even within the span of minutes as she made her way across the office and was approached by various people from different departments.

 

The elevator stopped at the 7th floor and a woman of about 70 walked in. Therese spoke quietly.

 

“I’m hanging out with work people at Jasmine’s tonight. Nothing for Saturday yet. I’ll have to see what I want to do.” She looked over at Carol and smiled. Carol raised her eyebrows, but made no attempt to secure the plans she knew would be happening anyway, letting Therese revel in the pleasure she got from teasing Carol. As Carol faced forward, studying the seams on the purse of the woman standing in front of her, she saw a string that had come loose extending out messily. Such a neatly constructed, simple piece, seemingly perfect but with this tiny flaw, this little string that held on. She wanted to cut it off. She sighed again. _Jasmine_. Therese didn’t know her like Carol did, having only been working with her for a few months. Carol knew what she was capable of and what motivated her, she knew that it was rare that she didn’t get what she wanted. She knew that Jasmine had an incredible knack for attracting attention - not just with her looks, but with her seemingly disjointed but magnetic and fluid personality. She wasn’t easy to pin down, especially when she wanted to slip under fences and tiptoe across boundaries.

 

Jasmine had chosen to take the sucking up path with Carol, but Carol saw right through it and Jasmine knew she did. They understood one another without needing to acknowledge it. Carol had wondered why Jasmine kept using the same tactic to tease Carol when it clearly wasn’t working. Carol was almost confused as to why she hadn’t approached it in a different way - after all, Carol was sure she had employed more complicated tactics to fuck other people in the past. In recent months, Jasmine had quieted down in her pursuit, instead regarding Carol as someone who should be respected but not appeased at every turn. Carol calculated that this different approach was about nine months late. Why had it taken so long for her to alter her behavior?

 

Carol had of course thought about fucking her many times over the course of the few years Jasmine had worked at the firm. She seemed to always imagine it happening in the bathroom, them both facing the mirror with Carol behind her. But every time she got to the part where she was looking in the mirror, seeing Jasmine’s face reflected back at her next to hers, she lost the desire to continue. She felt almost sick when looking at Jasmine’s pleasured but focused, knowing face. It was something that kept appearing in her fantasies, but then was pushed away once the inevitable moment of eye contact in the mirror was reached. Luckily, this had faded away with the appearance of Therese, whose wise, beautiful face reflected back something softer. Not innocent, not naive, but not malevolent or _knowing_ the way she imagined Jasmine’s would.

 

Carol chose not to comment further on the subject. She couldn’t quite tell what Therese thought of Jasmine yet, and she didn’t want to tell Therese what to do. In fact, she wanted to see how Therese handled it when she inevitably started to understand how Jasmine operated. It may take a bit of time, but Therese was perceptive, and it would come. Jasmine had given her no overt reason to worry that she was pursuing Therese, but Carol was watching her closely - the untamed part of her that still burned was watching for a fellow predator to appear on the horizon eyeing her precious, beloved prize, and she would be ready to revel in the deluge of a graphic bloodbath if she did.

 

* * *

 

Carol sat next to Harge’s father at the long oval table in the center of the conference room, the tops of her knees hitting underneath the table’s surface, as she was unable to adjust the swivel chair lower having found its adjustment handle broken off at the base. She had always been sitting at the head of this table previously, and the chairs at the ends of the table were bigger, sturdier. The room was bright, but it still created an inescapable feeling of heaviness, ordinariness, the pedestrian reality of a human’s need to make money by making other people money to survive. Harge sat directly across from her, writing something, and she wondered what. It was just a project update meeting, and he was invited as a “for your information” purpose, since he dealt only with the finances. The new president of the company, a woman a few years older than Carol, sat at the head of the table talking incessantly. Carol had helped pick this woman, wanting to be sure the firm was being run by someone with the knowledge and background that Carol personally felt was important. She also wanted to be sure it was being run by someone with a vagina.

 

Periodically, she could feel Harge’s eyes on her. It was a feeling she was used to, and she had learned to ignore it. However, at one point near the end of the meeting, when she felt his eyes on her, she suddenly felt another energy flow between them, something else trying to insert itself. She looked up to meet Harge’s eyes, then followed the path of energy back to its source: Harge’s father. He was looking at Carol, then moved his eyes away to Harge once she looked back. Harge’s father was more perceptive than Harge was, perhaps because he was not blinded by love for Carol as his son was. He had been trying to pry Harge away from her for years, and Carol knew it - and his father knew she knew it. Whenever they saw one another, her refusal to let Harge go was the unspoken but colossal issue that hung heavily from every word they uttered to one another. They never spoke of it directly, even when Harge wasn’t present. Carol also knew that his father could see that she felt something real for him - not what Harge wanted, but something real nonetheless. She always told herself she would let this go, would free all of them from this web, but she was still disentangling herself slowly, the beautiful but terrifying black spider that descended unhurriedly from the web on its silken string.

 

* * *

 

When Carol got back to Johnson’s office to pick up her things she’d need for the weekend, she texted Therese, who she knew would still be in the studio.

 

C: I’m leaving. Want to meet me in the lobby?

 

She had barely put her files into her bag when she got a response.

 

T: Yes. I’ll be down in 10. Also, I want to grab my shampoo and makeup out of your apartment. So let’s go straight there. I have to leave at 7 anyway.

 

Carol marveled at how the day had flown by, and Therese would be leaving for Jasmine’s in only a few hours.

 

When they stepped into the apartment building, Carol reached for Therese’s hand as they strolled across the lobby. Carol was tired of hiding their relationship at work, and she took every chance to touch Therese in public whenever they were outside the office. Carol kept one hand in Therese’s as she used the other to press the “up” button. They were both surprised to see the doors open immediately, apparently having not begun their upward ascent yet. Carol looked ahead to see a horrible image appear. There she stood, ripped jeans, bright pink flats, a matching shirt that left little to the imagination. Her hair was styled into loose curls and her makeup was, as always, impeccably done. She was carrying a small dog that Carol had never seen before. As soon as she made eye contact with Tara, Tara’s face lit up with delight. Carol’s first instinct was to look over at Therese, who had started walking into the elevator innocently, creating a slight pull on Carol’s hand as she went. Therese led them to the back wall, where they always went so that they could steal looks at one another without being watched.

 

Carol let herself breathe. Therese had never actually seen Tara before. She had no idea this was her. But here they stood, Carol and Therese holding hands, Tara’s presence in front of Carol like an excruciating, suffocating manifestation of dread. Carol willed Tara not to turn around, but of course she did. She looked back at Carol and looked her up and down, smiling.

 

“Hey Mommy. Can I join?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I've made you uncomfortable. Also, I think I may have lied to some of you before about Tara. Oh well.


	6. Choke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Elevator happenings, dense with looks into how the girls are feeling. Seems the other shoe is dropping for Carol as pieces of her past come back to her. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Note about the last chapter**  
> I understand that the use of the word "Mommy" was off-putting to some. I will reiterate that age-play is not part of this fic, nor was it ever going to be. I truly did not know how polarizing the use of that one word would be, and I hope that despite the vast differences in opinion on this, we are all able (especially since I presume that many of us reading this are LGBTQ etc. individuals) to recognize the validity of the vast array of ways in which consenting adults express their sexuality. One love, y'all.
> 
> Now back to what's important: lesbian drama.

Carol was at a loss for words. Her brain was incapable of translating her physical sensations and nonverbal thoughts into language. In any other situation, before Therese, she would have been able to smooth this over. It was one of her greatest gifts, borne of natural talent and refined by years of experience. Her lithe, smoothly curved body was like a platinum knife that could turn anything to butter, soft and pliable, spread over whatever shape her desires took. But as she had been several times since Therese entered her life, she was unable to come up with any clever excuse or avoidant segue. Carol was terrified, but forced herself to look at Therese.

 

Therese was looking at Tara’s back, as she had by the grace of God given up on getting a response from either of them and turned back around. Carol could see Therese’s eyes move from Tara’s open-backed halter top up to her wavy, cloying, perfumed hair. The small white dog she was carrying was looking over her shoulder at Therese, then Carol, as if watching them to see what they would do next. Its beady black eyes were partially obscured by the white fringe of its eyebrows, but it was seemingly unaware of the impediment to its vision. Therese’s eyes were intense and focused - as if she were collecting information for some purpose Carol couldn’t quite understand.

 

Carol tried to imagine what she would do if she were in the same situation. If it were anyone but Therese, she probably would have laughed it off. After all, why wouldn’t her prey have fallen victim to another predator - or even just fraternized with another at their same level on the sexual food chain? It didn’t matter. Once Carol had satisfied her craving, whatever remained of her feast could go on to do as it wished. But if someone had come along and made the same type of presumptive, lascivious remark about Therese that Tara had just made, Carol could imagine herself wrapping her hands around their neck until their face matched the color of her blood red nails. Carol kept her eyes on Therese for a few moments, sure she could feel her eyes on her, but Therese didn’t move her head even the slightest bit to look back. The lack of confrontation made Carol more uneasy than any violent reaction would have.

 

The elevator felt motionless despite the fact that they had somehow traveled from the lobby to the fourth floor. Carol focused her attention on her feet, trying to tell if she could feel it moving at all. They somehow had to survive another eight floors together. There was something encroaching on Carol, on all of them. She started to feel like she was inhaling hot, wet air, its thick saturated mist sucking up all the oxygen greedily like a vengeful monster. It was coming for Carol, and she had no escape. It had been coming for her for years, threatening to destroy whatever she found that she may want to hold onto. She had brushed it off her shoulder, keeping it at bay, almost challenging it to catch her - because even if it caught her, it would never find her holding on to anything she cared about losing, anything she couldn’t replace with a trip to the bar, her seductive smile, and twenty bucks to buy a round of white wine (or vodka and Red Bulls, or some hipster microbrew). She thought about her own ignorance at how she had been _so_ sure of that, had _known_ that anything, anyone could be replaced.

 

But here it was, the monster about to wrap its grotesque hands around this beautiful thing she had found and squeeze the breath that sustained its life out of it. She was stuck in this suffocating cube, with two others sucking up their own portions of whatever oxygen they had left. She felt like she could pass out.

 

Therese was still holding her hand, exactly as she had been when they were still walking into the building, devil-may-care, lost in a moment of complete contentment and an easy feeling of loving touch that was just beginning to feel natural. And now, that feeling she had been taking for granted less than a minute ago seemed so distant that she couldn’t even see it on the horizon. She felt foolish that she had let herself feel it, to let herself feel she could be redeemed for all she had done. All the air she had squeezed out of other vulnerable souls that had trusted their body, their one, precious life to her; trusted she wouldn’t push out so much as to strangle them with her own overwhelming pain.

 

* * *

 

When Carol opened the apartment door, she walked in and placed her purse on the counter, keeping her hand on it for a few moments. The leather somehow felt cool, even chilly, despite having just been branding an imprint of its strap on her blazing forearm in the boiling elevator. The apartment air was lighter, and the space seemed to expand even more as Therese walked away into the bathroom. Carol looked at her walking away, not wanting to talk about what had just happened but not wanting Therese to leave without speaking even more. She walked into the bathroom and stood, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame as she watched Therese pull her cheap shampoo and conditioner out of the shower.

 

“You know, I can buy you things to leave here. You don’t have to keep lugging things back and forth.”

 

Therese ceased all movement, her arm hanging in midair as she reached for her blue bath puff. They were suspended for a moment, and Carol could the feel the tension in Therese’s pose as if she herself were experiencing it - the potential energy of her position offering an endless array of outcomes depending on her next move. She finally resumed reaching for it, then stood. She turned to face Carol with a look that was so eerily calm that it made Carol panic as much as if she had come running at her with a machete.

 

“I like having my own things.” She remained still, standing there watching Carol, the bath puff dripping cold, soap-clouded water onto the white-tiled floor. Carol watched it drip, like an extension of Therese’s arm, a cloudy, colorless, nonhuman blood streaming out of her. Carol realized it had been the exact _wrong_ thing to say at that moment. She didn’t have an explanation for her behavior, but she had money. Therese clearly didn’t take the bait - or even care. Therese walked out the other side of the bathroom through the door that connected to Carol’s bedroom, and Carol closed her eyes for a moment before following her. Therese was throwing her clothes into a bag, walking around to Carol’s side of the bed, leaning down and emerging with a purple lace bra in her hand. She stuffed it in the bag.

 

Carol had to say something. Therese was about to go to Jasmine’s, and Carol couldn’t let her go while she was seething like this. She couldn’t let her go if she had any doubt about the depth of Carol’s love for her. If Therese was weakened, Jasmine would sense it, and if she saw an in, she would take it. She would invade it and pillage it. Or, even worse, if she had suspicions and extracted _just_ enough information from Therese, she could figure the whole thing out.

 

* * *

 

“Therese.” Therese kept moving. Carol walked into her path, holding out her palms so that Therese’s upper arms ran into them.

 

“That was just - ”

 

“I know what it was. I really don’t even want to talk about it. I have a past too, Carol. I just want to go right now.” She moved against Carol’s hands, but Carol kept her still, her fingers digging into the flesh of Therese’s arms as if she could somehow erase what had happened if she could just keep them still. Therese looked over her shoulder past Carol’s face. She could see the hazy outline of Carol’s hair and the blur of the blue of her iris and the black of her mascara in her peripheral vision, but she focused on the basket on her kitchen counter. Shaving cream, sticky notes, moments of confusion and anger. The thought of that sticky note was infinitely worse now, knowing who had written it. She now knew who had come to the door while Therese and Carol had sat on her couch connecting over their art, their shared passion. She now knew who had received the pleasure of Carol’s talented tongue, the tongue that had given her herself so many moments of elation, satisfaction, and complete openness. The tongue that Carol used to _love_ her. The worst part, though, was that heart. That cartoonish heart that defaced both of those notes. Was it the doodle of a vapid girl, or a sign of something she may have felt for Carol? Carol had insisted the entire thing was meaningless, but would Carol have told her if it wasn’t?

 

Therese knew, deep down, that Carol couldn’t have felt anything real for someone like that. But that knowledge didn’t prevent her from letting that tiny green cloud of doubt slip through one of the crevices of her brain. She tried to find its source, cut if off - but the source of feelings based on love were impossible to locate. They were everywhere - she knew that now, now that she had fallen in love for the first time. Had Carol been in love since that first time? How many women had she dated? Fucked? She had to have learned some of her sexual prowess through experience. She didn’t want to know, but the words came out of her mouth anyway, quickly and with more anger then she realized was in her.

 

“How many women have you fucked?” She was still standing in front of Carol, looking over her shoulder blankly. She moved to back up, wanting to look at Carol’s face. But now, despite Carol’s effort - even desperation - to get Therese to look at her before, she felt herself being held in place, Carol’s arms pulling on her, trying to prevent Therese from being able to look into her eyes. Therese pulled herself free with force and found Carol’s face. Her arms stung from the friction between Carol’s hands and where her coarse-fibered sweater scraped her arms. Carol was looking slightly down and to the side, her eyes finding temporary refuge on a spot just beyond Therese’s shoulder. Therese kept her eyes on Carol’s. Those eyes, turned away. Her eyelashes coated in mascara, several of them stuck together in an almost unnoticeable but inarguably existent clump - unabashed evidence of her imperfection, her humanness. The lines around her eyes. Therese thought them exquisitely beautiful, but in this moment they reminded Therese that they were at different points in their lives, had had so many experiences the other knew nothing about.

 

* * *

 

Carol finally looked up at her. The unflinching boldness she saw in Therese’s eyes made her want to turn and run. Fight or flight had always been a pathetic concept to Carol - there was no flight. There was only fight. Life had to be faced and managed, and trying to escape that reality would only cause you pain. She had struggled against her urge to fight when she had let Therese into her, inside her, and now she would pay for it. She would pay for abandoning the belief system that had carried her through life for so many years.

 

Therese was still looking at her, clearly unwilling to let Carol get away before she got an answer. The horrible truth was that Carol _didn’t_ know. Forty? Fifty? Sixty? Every second that she waited to answer Therese may as well count as another meaningless fuck. She wasn’t going to be able to run, to employ her flight. And she couldn’t fight, either - what ammunition did she have left? And so a third option appeared, a path she hadn’t even realized existed, because she had never followed it. Defeat.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Therese’s face softened just a little. Carol couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and it was making her feel like she could faint again, the flush of that monstrous heat creeping up into her chest.

 

“You don’t _know_? How do you not know?” Therese had furrowed her brow a bit, and Carol just waited, praying Therese would speak again first, give her some tiny avenue, some merciful firth to escape this sea of pitch black unknown, churning and frothing with her self-loathing and the suffocating, filthy hands of the sordid memories that weighed her down like anchors. She didn’t. Carol could wait her out, force Therese to make the next move, even if she had to stand here waiting all night, but she realized that the only chance she had to salvage the situation was to tell the truth. The monster had her in its grip, its merciless arms encircling her throat. And if the truth didn’t rescue her, she’d let it take her.

 

“I didn’t keep track.”

 

* * *

 

“Hiiiiii.” Jasmine was wearing a short, mint green strapless dress that had pleats at the waist. It was almost a cotton material, something that hugged her curves but draped easily; something formal enough for company but casual enough to match the nature of that company. “Come in, come in.”

 

Therese smiled at her and walked into the apartment. She had never been there in the six months she had worked with her, and it wasn’t at all what she expected. For some reason - maybe because of her name - Therese had imagined princess-like fabrics and colors, jewel-toned tuffets and beaded curtains. She just now realized how ridiculous that was. Instead, she found herself in a fairly monochrome, open space. A gray couch, a black area rug, silver lamps. There were small bursts of color on the walls and on shelves - small decorations and fabrics that looked as if they had landed there when someone spun around blindfolded in the center of the room, letting the items fall naturally, trusting that they knew where they belonged. It was relaxing but engaging, and Jasmine moved through it with ease. April and Cory sat in the living room, April leaning over Cory’s shoulder looking at something. When they heard the door close, they both looked up briefly and made indiscriminate noises to signal their greeting.

 

“Bourbon, right?” Jasmine was leaning over a narrow black table that ran along one side of her kitchen and began pouring Therese a drink before she had a chance to agree. When her hand brushed Therese’s as she handed it over, she gave her a wink. Before she turned away, though, she made eye contact with Therese and studied her face. Her countenance changed completely.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

Therese tried to smile nonchalantly as she took a sip of her drink.

 

“Of course.”

 

“It doesn’t look like it. Come here. We’re all gonna hang out and bitch about our lives. I’ll ply you with drinks until you forget whatever bullshit you’re going through.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your thoughts on how each of our girls handled this?


	7. Omission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one flowed out pretty easily. :)

Carol was still in her clothes at 9:30, not having wanted to change anything about her or her surroundings, hoping that by refusing to move on with her night, she could will Therese to come back to her apartment so they could continue their conversation - or, more desirably, move on from the whole situation. However, there was no such plan, and she hadn’t contacted Therese in the couple hours since she left. She kept picking up her phone, looking at the empty screen that showed only the time, big, perfectly pixelated numbers that taunted her in their excruciatingly slow progression. She kept putting the phone down on the counter, then on the coffee table, walking away to pour a drink or walk into the guest room to work, but within minutes she was walking back to wherever she had left it and rejoicing in those few moments between when her hand touched it and when she turned it over and pressed the button to light up the screen because there was a small chance she would see Therese’s name pop up. Every time she looked at its empty screen, she felt her slightly accelerated heartbeat drop back down to baseline. Finally, she decided to put her pride aside. She couldn’t expect to spend the rest of her life being the one who was always sought after. She had to give, again. She thought with pride about all the times she  _ had _ given,  _ had _ made herself vulnerable for Therese in the past months, but this felt different. Knowing Therese was upset with her, and with Jasmine, she felt even more vulnerable than she normally would - she was afraid and threatened by an outside force she couldn’t control, and to let Therese know that would force her to acquiesce even more control. But what alternative did she have? She fell onto the couch and opened her messages, starting to type, then erasing and starting over several times.

 

C: I hope you’re having fun. Come see me later?

 

She pressed send and threw the phone on the couch. She had given in. At least now she could justify checking the phone obsessively since she had a reason to await a response. After ten minutes, there was still nothing. She stood up, put her hands on her hips and walked towards the kitchen, not knowing what to do next. She walked back to the couch and stared down at the phone. She marveled at how she was practically groveling at the feet of this slab of metal, the smooth black case surrounding it reflecting the light above the coffee table. She picked it up again as she fell onto the couch.

 

C: I’ll be up late so come any time.

 

She put the phone down again and threw back the last sip of her drink, rocking her heels rapidly against the edge of the coffee table.

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t even really want to go.” Jasmine rolled her eyes and looked over at Therese. She was sitting on a modern, square white upholstered chair in the corner of her living room, her long bare legs extended onto the matching ottoman in front of it. Her ankles were crossed just above her bare feet, shoes abandoned after her second drink. There was an imposing, freestanding black metal lamp that arched with a deep curve from behind the chair and its disc-shaped light hovered heavily about two feet over Jasmine’s head. The dim light was strong enough to dispell the darkness from a decent amount of space around the chair, but there was a concentrated spot of light that illuminated Jasmine’s face from above, creating a glint in her brown eyes but delicate shadows under her dainty feminine features. Her light, mint green dress looked darker in the dim room, the contrast of its hem against her tanned upper thighs blurred.

 

April was telling the story of how Jasmine had accompanied the leadership team at the firm to a conference in LA her first year there and ended up helping them represent the company. They had chosen her to go and present their design work, despite the fact that she had been there for less time than most of the other designers.

 

“Bullshit. I don’t see how else you could have ended up there if you hadn’t. I know they gave you a choice because Harge had already asked me as a backup.” Cory was standing in the center of the room, swinging his left arm around in a circle, then switching his drink to the other hand and swinging the right, then leaning down to stretch his back. The rest of them didn’t even blink at it, as he often liked to stand up and stretch or do his own brand of uncoordinated yoga in the middle of the studio at work. He looked at Therese. “That’s when she first got her reputation as the most insufferable suck up anyone had ever seen. She came back from that conference acting like she owned the place.”

 

Jasmine looked at Therese and shook her head.

 

“Don’t listen to this. I completely embarrassed myself there and ended up tripping over a speaker wire in the middle of our presentation. I’m sure they regretted asking me.”

 

Therese gave her a half-hearted smile. She was still thinking about her conversation with Carol and wondering if she was mad at her. Therese had certainly been mad at  _ her.  _ Or was she mad? She realized she also felt disappointed - or rather, betrayed, as if Carol had kept something incredibly important from her. Anyone knew just by looking at Carol that she couldn’t be a stranger to being admired and coveted, and would have had her pick of women. But so many that she couldn’t remember? Did she feel anything for them? Therese was different, right? Carol loved her. But Carol was one of the smoothest, most effortlessly charming people she had met. She had clearly been with more beautiful, more physically perfect women, as evidenced by their recent run-in with the young, perfectly-proportioned specimen in the elevator. She looked at the glass in her hand, what remained of her third drink only a thin ring of amber liquid around the edge of the bottom of the glass. She tilted the glass and watched it travel in a circular path along the bottom, around and around and around. She tipped it into her mouth but only got a few drops. Some of it would remain in the glass no matter how vigorously she shook it or how much she wanted to consume it.

 

April was laying on the loveseat, staring at her phone and scrolling the screen slowly. She spoke monotonously, and Therese had almost forgotten she was there.

 

“Yeah they regretted asking you. That’s why you started getting the best projects after that trip.” She looked over at Therese. “Harge’s father mentioned her by name in one of our company-wide meetings.”

 

Jasmine was staring at her bare feet, shaking them a little as if she had extra energy she needed to let out. She looked up at Therese again and sighed.

 

“Well, Therese, I’m sure you won’t need to suck up to anyone like I  _ supposedly _ have been. I know people recognize your talent. I certainly do. And I’ve sat in on some meetings with the leadership team since we started working for Johnson and even brought your name up. Carol and Johnson seem to be big fans of yours.” She raised her eyebrows and and nodded slightly before returning to her foot jiggling.

 

“Oh.” Therese didn’t really know what to say. “Well, good. Thanks.” Why was Jasmine at those meetings? Did Cory and April know about it? She looked at them. Cory had graduated to laying on the floor, looking at the ceiling with complete contentedness. April was still on her phone, but Therese knew she had been listening to the entire conversation as evidenced by her infrequent but relative comments over the past half hour. She looked over at Jasmine briefly, then at Therese before returning to whatever was so enthralling on her phone. A silence fell over the room, and Therese noticed that Jasmine had her eyes closed. When she opened them, she found Therese looking at her and smiled.

 

Therese realized she had no idea what time it was and went to her purse on the table by the door to Jasmine’s apartment and took out her phone. She had five texts, three from Noelle and two from Carol. She opened the messages from Carol immediately. They were from over an hour ago.

 

_ I hope you’re having fun. Come see me later?  _ And ten minutes later,  _ I’ll be up late so come any time. _

 

Therese just looked at the words for a moment, then started typing.

 

T: I’m leaving soon. I’ll see you in a bit.

 

* * *

 

Carol heard the knock and leapt off the couch, almost tripping over one of her heels that she had kicked off. When she opened the door, she found Therese looking sideways, staring down the hallway before she slowly turned her head towards Carol. Her eyes were a little glazed, as if there was a thin layer of misty protection over them that made them almost, but not quite, clear enough for Carol to see into them.

 

Carol moved aside to let Therese in, then leaned on the closed door, her hands behind her as she watched Therese walk down the entryway hallway. When she saw her emerge into the open space of the kitchen, she followed, now secure that there was enough space for both of them to move freely. Therese was standing in the middle of the space between the kitchen and living room, and Carol decided to wait for her to come to her. She leaned against one of the kitchen counters and crossed her arms. She didn’t want to be the one to talk. She didn’t know what was going through Therese’s head, she didn’t know what had just happened at Jasmine’s. But she did know that Therese was a little buzzed, and she wondered if her lowered inhibitions would bring out more truth or more anger. Therese turned to look at her, then slowly moved towards the counter until she was a few inches in front of Carol. She ran her fingers along Carol’s collarbone, as if it had distracted her from whatever she had to say, as if it were more important than anything else. When she finally broke from her trance, she looked up into Carol’s eyes.

 

“I’m sorry.” She leaned in to kiss Carol, but Carol didn’t move. For the first few seconds of their kiss, Carol kept her lips still, wanting to feel Therese coming after her, coaxing her to return her affection. She finally did, but as Therese started to move her hands onto Carol’s waist, then beginning to graze her breasts, Carol pulled back. She breathed deeply.

 

“I want you to understand something.” She made sure Therese was looking her in the eye. “None of it, none of them meant anything.The way I feel about you, I…” she looked down at Therese’s shoulder, her eyes becoming unfocused. “I haven’t felt this way in a long time. A very long time.” She looked back up at Therese, whose expression had become a little more present and animated, but remained calm nonetheless. Carol continued.

 

“They were all just distractions from the things I was desperate to hide from. I gave myself away because I was empty and wanted to fill myself by taking it from someone else.” Therese had her head tilted to the side, blinking slowly, considering Carol’s words. “When I give myself to you, I’m trying to make  _ you _ feel full the way you have done for me. I want to share some of this excess you’ve given me.”

 

“Why me?” She searched Carol’s eyes with genuine curiosity. Carol could feel tears threatening her eyes.

 

“Why  _ me _ ?”

 

* * *

 

“Well, it’s a few weeks late.” Harge was looking through the menu, not looking up at Carol. Carol ran her finger around the top edge of her water glass and stared at it.

 

“I know.”

 

Harge finally looked up at her. Carol waited for him to speak. She had no idea what he was going to say, but she knew it would be important, as she could tell by the way his left eyebrow curved up just the slightest bit.

 

“Does she know?”

 

Carol looked down at the table.

 

“Know what?”

 

Harge didn’t move.

 

“All of it. Any of it.”

 

Carol looked back up at him and saw concern in his eyes. More than concern - expectation. He wanted the truth and Carol knew he wanted it for himself as well as for Carol. He wanted to know that they hadn’t done all of it, gone through all this pain, for nothing.

 

“Yes. Some.” Carol could feel her chest rising and falling with her quickened breath, and met his eyes with trepidation. She was afraid, and he knew it. She felt the tiniest seed of shame rising inside her, the one she always fought to kill, the weed that could only be controlled, never eradicated. Harge still held his menu up, his focus on Carol precluding him from making any other movement.

 

“Don’t do this to someone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Secrets.


	8. Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All from Therese's point of view, because I've been avoiding getting in her head. Hopefully this gives us a little visibility.
> 
> Ending is slightly NSFW.

Therese led Carol through the entry hallway of Noelle and Dylan’s apartment, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the minor but very real stress of watching her worlds collide. Carol had met and spent time with Noelle and Dylan a few times, but it was rare because of how often Noelle and Dylan were out of town. Therese was starting to worry about whether they would even stay in New York, as they were on the west coast more often than they were at home - but she never broached the topic, not wanting to put ideas in their head. She was essentially living in a luxury apartment for the price of a shitty studio, and only tasked with the duties of watering Noelle’s garden and taking care of the cats - plus trying not to kill all the plants that were already in their apartment, which were so numerous that Therese still walked around several times with the water jug to make sure she hadn’t missed any. Taking care of things wasn’t in her nature, but the cats and the plants were forcing her to. Apparently she needed to be faced with the prospect of homelessness in order to take responsibility for another living entity that needed her to help it grow and thrive. She was the only one there, the only one the animals and plants could depend on, and so she would do it - and even grew to _want_ to do it.

 

As she emerged into the open space of the apartment, she turned back to face Carol. Having Carol in this space when they were alone was enough of a worry, since she always cleaned up before Carol came over. Therese was a fairly neat person already, but Carol’s apartment was always impeccable and spare with its bare counters and simple art - quite the opposite of the statues, plants, natural stones, smoking devices, and hand-woven blankets and tapestries that adorned Noelle’s apartment. Despite all the time they had been together, Therese still wanted to present Carol with the best version of herself - one that took Carol’s comfort into consideration when she prepared the apartment for her visits.

 

The meeting of these seemingly opposite personalities - Carol with her friends - always made her anxious inner self feel as if she would need to control the environment, the conversation, the way she and Carol were perceived as a couple. She thought with nervousness about how Noelle and Dylan knew her as someone completely different than she had been since meeting Carol - and she didn’t want Carol to know how she had treated her previous girlfriends, or how callous she had been when trusted with other people’s hearts. She could feel how fragile and evasive Carol’s heart was, and she wanted to nurture it, help it grow and heal. She didn’t always trust herself to do so, but there wasn’t an alternative if she wanted to keep on this path with Carol. She knew in her bones that she was the only one could do it and she gladly took on that responsibility.

 

She always forgot that other people - especially ones as socially adept as all three of the other humans in the room - conversed and interacted with people very different from them everyday, and didn’t need to be controlled. She reminded herself that billions of people interacted every day without Therese policing the interaction, and this should be no different. If she wanted them to truly know one another, she had to let go of it. She had to let both sides see who she used to be and who she had become.

 

“Hey! Come in, come in!” Noelle almost shouted at Carol and Therese. Dylan was in the kitchen, fridge gaping open. He came over to say hello and gave Carol a kiss on the cheek, which Therese found both charming and hilarious - as if he were some kind of grown up.

 

“Nice to see you again,” Carol said casually, a genuine smile on her face. Therese was amazed at how she could transition into a room, read the vibe, and adjust accordingly. As Dylan walked back to the kitchen, he called over his shoulder.

 

“Carol, what are you drinking?”

 

“Bourbon.” Carol winked at Therese, and Dylan laughed, pointing at Therese.

 

“Oh, so she picked up this uncharacteristic taste from you.” Therese had begun drinking more hard liquor, no doubt due to Carol’s influence but also because she realized that it provided a more sedate buzz than beer - she felt calmer and more serious, which matched the conversations she and Carol liked to share after work - substantive and reflective. It was again entirely different from her previous approach to drinking. Alcohol had always been a vehicle for social interaction, a way to have a little fun on the weekend by downing a few cheap beers. Now, with Carol’s sophisticated presence and expensive taste in liquor, it had become an experience, and one she found suited her. Carol appeared to Therese as a true “adult,” whatever that meant, and she was lifted into that maturity she had been avoiding for so long, and she liked the way it felt on her.

 

* * *

 

By 11:30, all four of them were on the couches, cats roaming around looking for the warmest lap to sit in. Melody had chosen to sit on the arm of the couch next to Carol, making no physical contact but making a point to be near her. They both had their heads turned toward the conversation, Melody’s beautiful narrow eyes and pleasing facial structure providing an amusing but appropriate mimic of Carol’s. Carol was sitting on the couch, reclined against the corner, her legs crossed one over the other and one arm spread across the back of the couch. Therese leaned into the shelter of Carol’s body, her knees bent against her with her feet on the couch. Carol was in black leggings and flats, the clinging red t-shirt she wore providing a pop of color. When Carol got up to get another round of drinks for everyone, Therese made a point to turn and watch her go, envying the leggings that hugged her body so intimately. When she turned back to Noelle and Dylan, she found them both looking at Therese, smiling. Noelle raised one of her eyebrows and whispered.

 

“I mean, I like dick, but I’d still hit it.”

 

Therese laughed and looked over to the kitchen to make sure Carol didn’t hear the remark. She found her bent over, fishing ice out of the bottom-drawer freezer. _Jesus Christ._ As she momentarily forgot about being in the presence of other people, she imagined walking up behind Carol and sliding her hand down along that beautiful ass and letting it settle between her legs, seducing that closed, dormant bloom to spread itself open for her as it always did with the encouragement of her words, her touch. That open flower that always entrapped her with its visual beauty, its dewy layer of moisture, its heady fragrance. She realized she was getting wet just thinking about it, and tried to shake the thought. She looked over at Noelle and held eye contact for a moment, silently communicating what she was going to do next. Noelle gave an almost imperceptible nod with no change in facial expression. Therese turned to Carol.

 

“All right I’m exhausted. You ready to go babe?” Therese had a minor panic attack when she realized she had called Carol “babe” in front of Noelle and Dylan, but it had already come out of her mouth before she could stop it. She didn’t know why it made her so nervous, but then realized that she had probably never said something like that to a girl in front of her friends before. In fact, she wondered how often she had ever even used an affectionate pet name for a girlfriend. She usually tried to keep her love life separate from her friends, even Noelle. She knew if Noelle saw the way she interacted with previous love interests, she’d chastise her for being so direct and unfeeling.

 

“Sure.” Carol was unfazed and didn’t even acknowledge that Therese had called her that. Therese felt a rush of happiness at the thought that Carol must have been fine with it, comfortable enough to let it go without comment. It was these tiny things that began to make Therese feel more secure as a fixture in Carol’s life, bit by bit. Not just an adornment or motionless accessory - but a fixture she used and had grown attached to. A fixture she leaned on for support.

 

* * *

 

When they made it into Carol’s apartment, Carol dropped the keys on the table next to the door and slipped off her shoes. She made her way into the living room and cracked the window open, and while still turned away from Therese, she stripped her t-shirt off.

 

“It’s too hot in here.” She was still looking out the window, the curtains wide open to the city view below. Carol breathed in the night air deeply, eyes closed. Therese could see her reflection in the dark window, staring at the way the cups of Carol’s simple black bra followed the curve of her breasts perfectly. It didn’t matter whether Carol wore something explicitly sexy or not - everything that graced her body became erotic, charged with a desire Therese longed to enmesh herself in. She saw Carol’s eyes open and immediately meet hers in the mirror made by the dark window. She finally turned around, and the full-color, three dimensional version of the creature before her pushed an even heavier current of blood through her body, all the way to her fingertips. Carol started walking towards her, and by the shape of her smile, Therese knew she was about to speak.

 

“Are _you_ hot? _Baby_?” She tilted her head down slightly and looked up at Therese from under her eyebrows. Therese knew she was letting her know that she had noticed what Therese had called her downstairs, and Carol confronting her with it made another small surge of nervousness shoot through her. It had felt natural but terrifying, and knowing Carol had been so keenly aware of it opened another small bit of vulnerability she didn’t even know existed.

 

“I don’t know if I’ve ever called a girlfriend that,” Therese mused, almost to herself. Carol came all the way up to Therese until her bra was grazing the front of Therese’s light sweater. It was still cool outside, despite Carol’s endless complaint about the heat.

 

“It’s not something I’ve done very often either. Not for ages.” Carol placed one of her hands on Therese’s cheek. “But it feels right. That’s the way I love you.”

 

Therese leaned in to kiss Carol and couldn’t help smiling. Carol took Therese’s open mouth as an invitation and slid her tongue into her, using her hands on Therese’s lower back to pull Therese up against her. When their lips parted, Therese looked up at Carol and her small smile reappeared.

 

“And how else do you love me?”

 

Carol leaned down so that she could place a soft kiss against Therese’s collarbone, then placed a few more on her skin as she worked her way up towards her ear, then whispered into it.

 

“Like this.”

 

Therese closed her eyes and sighed, already feeling her entire body respond at the relatively innocent contact. Carol pulled Therese over to the couch and waited, which Therese knew was a signal for her to lay down. Carol straddled her and pushed her sweater up until it was almost up to her neck, exposing Therese’s bare stomach and seemingly useless, paper-thin bra. Carol leaned down and licked along where the bra met the swell of each breast, then dragged her open mouth up across Therese’s chest and again to her ear.

 

“Like this.”

 

Carol got up on her knees and looked down at Therese as she slid her hand down her own underwear, her hand moving just the slightest bit. Therese could see her move her hand far enough down so that she knew she was touching her own opening, then watched her hand move up a few inches to circle what had to be her throbbing clit and letting out just the quietest moan at the feel of her own touch. Carol pulled her hand out and leaned forward, wiping her wet finger across Therese’s lower lip, displacing it just a bit so that Therese was forced to open her mouth slightly, at which point Carol ran her finger gently across Therese’s tongue.

 

“And this much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one. :)


	9. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couch sex. And by sex, I mean only sex. The entire chapter is just sex.

As soon as Carol’s finger touched her tongue, Therese closed her eyes so she could focus completely on the tangy sweetness hitting her taste buds. As soon as her mouth closed around her finger, Carol pulled it out, dragging it down past her lower lip, down her chin, and along the skin between her breasts. There was no visible trail, but Therese could feel the sensation of Carol’s wetness mixed with her own saliva being spread across her body as if it were a river.

 

When Therese opened her eyes, she saw Carol still atop her, holding her gaze while staying completely still. There was a moment when Therese didn’t know what would happen next. The endpoint would be the same, but what happened between this moment and that moment of satisfied collapse depended on her next move. She and Carol had established several patterns of dominance, with the outcome of their teasing play dictating who would be allowed the first claim to the other’s body. Carol’s eyelids appeared heavy, but Therese could still see a peek of her blue irises illuminated by the dim mix of the city lights and the small lamp on the other side of the room. By the way her chest heaved, Therese could tell Carol was already well down the path of arousal, and her stillness communicated to Therese that she was waiting for her to make the next move, to wordlessly communicate to Carol what she wanted.

 

Therese could flip them over and immediately feel what she had just tasted coat her fingers, or she could let Carol roughly pull Therese’s sweater over her head and continue the descent of her body, but Therese realized that she already had exactly what she wanted in this moment. Carol had already started something she had to see more of. Finally their silent, paralyzed gaze was broken. Therese was suddenly emboldened.

 

“Touch yourself again.” She was whispering, though she didn’t need to as they were entirely alone.

 

Carol’s eyes opened a bit more, and one side of her mouth inched up almost imperceptibly. She leaned down, her breasts looking as if they could overflow the top of her bra with gravity. Therese looked down at them, imagining what it would feel like to have them caressing her face. When Carol got close enough so that her breasts were merely an inch from touching Therese’s skin, she stopped. She looked directly into Therese’s eyes and grazed her open lips across Therese’s before pulling back.

 

“Don’t you want to touch me?” Carol wasn’t whispering, but her voice was low and quiet.

 

Therese closed her eyes again and inhaled, trying to draw some of the blood that had rushed between her legs at Carol’s words back up into her brain to allow her to speak. Before she could, Carol spoke again.

 

“Or taste me?”

 

Therese had to move herself agitatedly in order to avoid immediately grabbing Carol’s hips to grind against her and give her clit the relief it begged for. Instead, she looked back into Carol’s eyes with determination. She allowed herself a brief moment of weakness in which she pushed her face into Carol’s cleavage and kissed the soft skin on one of her breasts, then she moved her hands to Carol’s upper arms and pushed her gently back up so Carol was upright again.

 

“Touch yourself.” Therese repeated.

 

Carol actually let her lips curl into a close-lipped smile and looked at Therese with complete satisfaction. Therese knew Carol loved when she was able to resist her and give Carol a command or some direction. Therese had learned that Carol rarely asked to be taken or told what to do, but over time, she found that when she simply decided she was going to be in charge, Carol appeared to find great pleasure in it. In fact, she often felt that Carol had her most powerful orgasms when Therese had her head between her legs, holding her hips down, or moving on top of her, filling her with forceful thrusts.

 

Carol finally heeded her command and slipped her hand back down inside her underwear.

 

“No.” Therese stopped her. “Take them off. I want to be able to see you do it.” Therese grabbed the hem of Carol’s leggings and slipped her fingers underneath both them and her underwear, pulling down roughly to reveal the top half of Carol’s mound and the outward curve of her hips. Carol knew she would have to stand up and take them off, so she swung her legs over to one side of the couch and stood up. She walked over to stand next to Therese’s head as she slowly stepped out of her clothes, her bare pussy so close to Therese’s face that she could see moisture glimmering in the dim light and smell the scent that was simply, indescribably _Carol_. Carol was still wearing her bra, but made no move to remove it. She moved just the tiniest bit closer, and Therese felt like she was being pushed almost to insanity with every millimeter that closed between her and that glistening, intoxicating flower.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want a taste first?” Carol was looking down at her and ran her long fingers through Therese’s hair, pulling it lightly and moving Therese’s head even closer to her. Therese looked into Carol’s eyes and saw the challenge there.

 

“No. Get back on me.” She dropped her eyes to Carol’s bra. “Take that off.”

 

Carol refused to move for a moment, and Therese saw that tiny window of hesitation on Carol’s face, became aware of the almost unnoticeable space in time when Carol had to choose, as she had been required to do time and again, to acquiesce to Therese’s will rather than to force control herself. The weight of this decision wasn’t lost on Therese, and she always tried to make the depth of her love and appreciation clearly visible to Carol in her eyes, her expression, to communicate the silent invitation to safety she wanted to offer her. Carol finally let go of Therese’s hair and gave in, reaching behind her to remove her own bra. When she straddled Therese again, Carol closed her eyes and immediately placed one hand on her own breast, squeezing it lightly as she slid the other down, resting her middle finger just between her inner labia below her clit, sliding it back and forth lazily to gather some of her wetness. When she moved up to her clit, she opened her eyes and made direct eye contact. In the same moment, Carol let out a breathy, low-pitched moan, and Therese saw her hand start working faster, while she moved the other from her own breast and brutishly pushed Therese’s bra up without unclasping it. She held Therese’s breast tightly and used it to support her weight as she began grinding her hips along Therese’s lower abdomen in time with her fingers’ movement against her clit. Therese watched her with rapt attention.

 

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

 

Carol had been lost in her own arousal, but Therese’s words seemed to awaken her.

 

“I can’t do this much longer, baby.” Carol was still moving rapidly, and the look in her eye told Therese that there was still time, but she had to make it fast. Therese reached down and grabbed Carol’s wrist firmly, pulling it away from her swollen wet sex. They both paused for a moment as Therese’s fingers dug into Carol’s wrist, fingertips creating the slightest sensation of pain and no doubt leaving a red and white grip mark.

 

Therese pulled Carol’s hand towards her and took her drenched finger into her mouth, encouraging Carol to move it in and out as she savored it like an obscene popsicle. She could feel Carol involuntarily rubbing herself against the seam of where Therese’s pants met her lower stomach. Therese pulled Carol’s finger out of her mouth and began to sit up, pushing Carol off her as she went. Therese stood up and moved to take off her remaining garments without removing her eyes from Carol’s as she still kneeled on the couch naked. Therese slipped her pants down and off, noticing the wet spot near the seam and feeling an extra rush of excitement knowing Carol had already left so much evidence of her desire on her, and jealous that she had missed any.

 

Therese laid back down on the couch, feeling her naked body jump a bit at the touch of the cold leather. Carol was back on her, running her hands hungrily up and down Therese’s torso. Therese looked her in the eye, then made sure Carol followed her gaze as she looked at where their bodies met.

 

“Come here.”

 

Therese was fairly certain that Carol understood, and wasn’t disappointed when she saw Carol shimmy forward on her knees until all she could see was the underside of Carol’s full, round breasts, the protruding, red lower lip she loved to feel between her own legs, and a few whisps of her blonde hair falling into Carol’s face, all just lovely garnishes framing the delicious entree right in front of her. She moved her hand up between her face and Carol’s sex, sliding her fingers along Carol’s dripping slit as she allowed her eyes to take in the sight before her mouth devoured it. Carol was pushing herself closer to Therese’s mouth, but Therese pushed back up on Carol’s inner thighs, keeping her inches from her mouth. Therese wanted her to have to ask for it. Finally, Carol spoke.

 

“Baby.” She moaned, still with eyes closed. Therese rewarded Carol’s word with some light strokes of her fingers against Carol’s slit, but she was waiting for more, and Carol knew it. Carol let out a half-moan, half-scream of utter frustration and finally gave in and begged.

 

“Therese, please. Please, baby. I’m about to come right now and I don’t want…” She was losing her words.

 

Therese released some of the pressure on Carol’s thighs and moved her mouth up to make one smooth lick around Carol’s opening, then up her slit stopping just short of her clit. Carol was shaking.

 

“You don’t want what? You don’t want to come now?” She was torturing Carol and she knew it.

 

“I want… I…” Carol couldn’t speak anymore.

 

“You want to come in my mouth? I know, babe. Come here.” Therese finally let go of her, and Carol immediately sought contact with Therese’s mouth. Therese knew that at this point, Carol would only need a few moments until she came, so she kept her tongue still and stiff so that Carol could find where it felt best to grind against. After less than thirty seconds, Carol stopped moving and pressed herself violently against Therese’s tongue, her mouth open but completely silent for one paralyzed moment before her muscles came alive again, the crash of her built up arousal so violent that it dislodged whatever had been keeping her contained - whatever had been keeping in her inhibitions, her control, and everything that was now releasing itself onto Therese’s face.

 

Carol held herself there, letting her body and brain recover by keeping Therese’s warm mouth against her as the last jolts of her orgasm hit her. She was panting, still making a small noise every time her now sensitive clit moved just the slightest bit.

 

When she finally moved off of Therese, she slid her body back down until they were face-to-face. She propped herself up on one elbow and used the other hand to gently wipe the wetness from Therese’s chin.

 

“Jesus,” Carol almost laughed.

 

She leaned forward to lick Therese’s lips, then find her way into Therese’s mouth. The feeling of Carol’s body moving against hers, the memory of what had just happened moments ago, the feeling of Carol’s tongue inside her mouth reveling in the taste of her own cum was driving her crazy. When she started pulling Carol’s body into her rhythmically, Carol moved back to kiss her way down Therese’s neck and chest, then began to gently bite one of her breasts when Therese shook in frustration. She couldn’t wait any longer and didn’t need any more drawn out attention - she had just had all the buildup she needed by watching Carol get off, and all she wanted was Carol’s body against hers, Carol’s heart next to hers, and Carol’s fingers to push her over the edge. She grabbed Carol and pulled her towards her.

 

“No, no, come here.”

 

Carol moved up and looked at Therese patiently.

 

“What do you want baby? I’ll do anything.” She had her mouth against Therese’s ear, her hands running down Therese’s side, sending a shiver through her.

 

Therese smiled as best she could through her torturous state of suspended anticipation.

 

“Touch me. I can’t stand it any longer. I want you inside me.”

 

Carol wasted no time, as she knew Therese was on the edge. She ran two fingertips around the outside of Therese’s opening, gauging how wet she was and what her next move would be. Carol let out an involuntary noise when she felt what hit her fingers, and added a third before smoothly entering Therese. She moved in and out slowly, knowing it was more important for Therese to feel completely full when Carol was first inside her rather than to move too quickly. Therese would tell her when she wanted more. As Therese began to gasp rhythmically, Carol moved gently away so she could use her other hand to touch Therese’s clit. She tentatively began moving her fingers inside Therese faster when she heard what she had been waiting for.

 

“Fuck me. Please.”

 

Carol felt her own body react to those words, not in the way it used to - when it became possessed like an automated machine intent on fucking whatever inanimate beauty lay before it - but instead at the pure pleasure of knowing she was giving herself to the woman she loved and was desperate to worship in any way she could. Carol was moving in and out quickly and firmly, her other hand making fast circles around Therese’s hood the way she liked it. When Therese opened her eyes and looked at Carol as she continued to gasp at the feel of Carol’s every thrust, Carol nodded slightly and whispered.

 

“Come, baby.”

 

Therese let her head fall back and let out a long, continuous moan as the first, most powerful surge of her orgasm hit her. Carol’s sitting position allowed her to look down on Therese’s body, the beautiful instrument of pleasure that both captured and motivated her own desire. Therese’s release rolled through her like a wave, first exploding its way out of her to lift her hips, then lower back, flowing up through her chest, and finally through the curve of her arched neck until it seemed to awaken her as her eyes flew open.


	10. Wrinkles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was lots of fun and totally necessary but let's get to a little plot.

Monday mornings were always challenging for Therese, as she often stayed late at the office on Sunday nights when she and the other designers were trying to scramble to get things together for Monday deadlines. Carol spent Sundays doing various tasks that they had ignored on Saturday, since they tried to spend as much time as possible together doing anything other than chores or errands. Carol was used to outsourcing most of her mundane tasks - laundry and dry cleaning was sent out and delivered back clean and folded, the apartment was scrubbed top to bottom by a cleaning service weekly, and groceries were delivered. In the past few months, Therese had taken to teasing Carol about her reliance on others for these things. She hadn’t grown up with any extra luxuries, and Carol’s delegation of the ordinary tasks that made a human stay connected with its basic needs seemed ridiculous to her. She would start a load of laundry in Carol’s washing machine periodically just to prod her - or she would make Carol come downstairs instead of going up to her because she simply _had_ to clean up the kitchen and didn’t have time to laze about in Carol’s apartment.

 

Carol never said anything about it, and often ended up folding whatever clothes Therese had washed at her apartment or going out to buy the special items on the grocery list that Therese insisted a grocery delivery service would get wrong. Carol found herself content, even smiling at times as she hung up some of the pullovers that Therese now left at Carol’s or putting away the very specific brand of organic, low-sodium canned lentil soup Therese liked that was hidden in the back of the grocery store and could easily be missed. It was ironic that Therese was being high-maintenance in order to prove the point that Carol was _incredibly_ high-maintenance, but they both enjoyed the feeling of being immersed in some semblance of domestic life. Because they were secretive about their relationship at work, being at one of their apartments was their only time to just be partners, just be lovers, just _be_.

 

Carol often did those chores on Sunday morning, followed by her usual trip to the gym in the afternoon and was home by dinner time, but when Therese texted her as she was about to leave work at 9pm on Sunday, Carol was also just leaving dinner with Harge. Carol’s dinners with Harge every few months were starting to bother her, though Carol constantly reassured her that they were discussing work and other benign topics. Therese had thought about bringing it up as they sat on Carol’s couch the night before drinking their vodka and staring lazily out the window, but her stolen glances at Carol in profile next to her, sipping her drink calmy, contentedly, made her lose her nerve. Harge was the dull ache in her side that had grown increasingly noticeable, now a pain that had begun to spread slowly but determinedly. It stole her comfort and some of her confidence just as it stole Carol’s time and energy. She knew she was justified in being bothered by it, but she couldn’t quite figure out all the reasons why. Yes, of course, she was uncomfortable knowing Harge had been in love with Carol (and she with him, though in a different way), she was uncomfortable knowing they had been physically intimate, she was uncomfortable with the fact that Carol always made time to see him periodically. But there was something else, something unspoken, invisible, and untouchable between them that was still inexplicably palpable even without clues from any of the five senses. As Therese had grown more in tune with Carol’s still elusive but increasingly available emotions, she only picked up on this dynamic more and more.

 

* * *

 

Because Therese was up late on Sundays, she had trouble getting out of bed on Monday mornings, while Carol, still refreshed from the weekend and always a morning person in general, was up at 5:30. She restrained herself from waking Therese up until after she had pressed snooze twice. If Therese reached for her phone a third time to silence it, Carol would make her move. This was such a morning.

 

The early morning May sun was cutting in through the few inches of window uncovered by the curtains and landing on Therese’s hip, a slanted rectangle of light that wrapped around her like it existed only to fit perfectly along her form. Carol went over to Therese’s side of the bed and got on her knees, setting Therese’s coffee on the nightstand and making sure not to wrinkle whatever she was wearing, since she was already dressed for work. She placed a light kiss on Therese’s cheek, which elicited only the tiniest movement, but Carol knew she was awake. She moved her way across her jaw, pressing a little harder each time until she met her lips and held them there, finally feeling Therese kiss her back.

 

“Get up, you have to go create more beautiful things so we can sell perfume and jewelry.” Carol stood up and ran her hand along Therese’s upper arm.

 

Therese groaned and reached her arms out to encircle Carol’s hips and pull her in. She snuggled her head against Carol and tried to hold her there, closing her eyes again. Carol backed away, pulling on Therese’s hand as she did. Carol went over to her dresser to pick out a pair of earrings.

 

“You better drink that coffee and get your brain moving, you and the rest of your little team are supposed to present those mock ups to me at 12:30. We’re doing Johnson’s kumbaya cross-functional thing, remember? You’re already giving me the feeling that you aren’t fully committed, and I don’t tolerate that.” She looked over at Therese, who was finally sitting up and sipping her coffee as she listened to Carol in a cloudy daze.

 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Therese’s face was completely serious, as she had just enough energy to initiate verbal flirting but not enough to carry through with the smile and coy eye contact that usually accompanied it. Carol laughed as she finished putting on her jewelry and smoothing the front of her navy pencil skirt.

 

“I know what you want me to say. I’ll punish you in whatever way you want later, but right now you need to get up.”

 

* * *

 

Carol and Therese had grown comfortable with their secrecy in the office, confident in their dynamic and how they came off when interacting with others, despite the fact that they both realized that they had been a bit lazy lately - making out in the back kitchen, making intense eye contact whenever they passed one another in the hallway. Therese went into Carol’s office just after noon, wanting to spend a few stolen minutes with her while almost everyone was at lunch. She looked around quickly before entering Carol’s office and immediately shut the door. Carol turned from her computer, wearing the dark-rimmed glasses Therese adored so much and rubbing her right wrist with her left hand as she often did after she had been typing or drawing for quite some time. Her blouse had intricate stitched patterns on the front, the wide spaces between the curved lines of thread covered only with sheer fabric. Unfortunately, there was a layer of tan fabric between the sheer layer and Carol’s skin that hid what was underneath, but it still gave the impression of bare skin underneath. Carol looked at her, silent for a moment, then spoke.

 

“Can I help you?” She started to take the glasses off but Therese stopped her when her fingertips had just reached the rim on the right lens.

 

“No! Don’t take those off.” She walked over behind Carol’s desk and hopped up on it, her legs dangling over the side so they were directly in front of Carol’s chair. Carol ran her hands along Therese’s thighs, tilting her head up so Therese would know to lean down and kiss her. After a few minutes spent laughing and talking, Therese realized it was 12:25.

 

“I have to get out of here so I can come back with the rest of the team at 12:30 and pretend I haven’t had your hands all over me for the past twenty minutes.”

 

Therese turned back to give Carol one last smile as she was walking out the door. When she turned her head to face the hallway, she was met with a pair of soft brown eyes, completely expressionless just like the rest of her face. After what felt like an eternity, Jasmine seemed to be possessed by an outside force and smiled.

 

“Hey girl!” She made no mention of the fact that Therese was coming out of Carol’s office. “Do you have your pages with you?” Her tone was cheery and innocent.

 

“No, I have to go grab them.” Therese walked quickly to the studio, seeing that Cory, April, and the two other designers on this project had already left, probably walking down the hallway on the other side of the office at that moment.

 

* * *

 

As they left Carol’s office, Jasmine spent time fiddling with her papers, slowly flipping through them as if she was waiting for something. Therese left the office, having no reason to stay and not wanting to create any further suspicion by hanging around. Instead of walking back to the studio, she waited in the hallway, far enough down so that she could still make out Carol’s face, but not Jasmine’s, who was turned towards Carol. She flipped through her phone distractedly, not paying attention to what she was doing as she picked her eyes up to watch Carol every few seconds. Carol was speaking quietly and calmly, but after a minute or so, she stood up and was leaning her head towards Jasmine, a calm but bold look on her face. Therese knew that look, it was the one Carol had when she was angry but exercising the incredible restraint that afforded her so much success in having the upper hand when things got heated. Jasmine must have said something incredibly inflammatory, as all of a sudden Carol placed her hands down on the desk and leaned all the way over it towards Jasmine, and her mouth began moving in a cruel, murderous way that belied her calm eyes and made her look like she could tear into flesh and come away with blood dripping off those lurid red lips. As soon as Therese noticed the edge of Jasmine’s crisply pleated, dark fuschia dress move towards her, she walked hurriedly back to the studio.

 

* * *

 

_August 2010, New York City_

 

Carol and Harge hadn’t had sex in over a month, which despite Carol’s disinterest was much longer than usual. He was reading the paper in the living room, still in his work clothes, one ankle crossed over his knee. Carol was standing in the kitchen pouring her fourth drink when she stopped and looked at the liquid in the glass, suddenly hating how its brown countenance mocked her with its power and ability to coat and obscure things. She looked over at Harge, his usually amiable face set in a concerned expression, as if what he was reading was deeply troubling. She walked over to the sink and threw the drink forcefully, the liquid hitting the sides of the sink and even splattering onto the counter around the sink. She stared at the brown droplets, looking almost like a dull burgundy, defacing her perfect, clean counter, and walked away towards the living room.

 

She stared at Harge until he looked up. They were silent, Carol waiting until he understood what she was trying to communicate. He put the paper down.

 

“Really?”

 

Carol didn’t respond, instead walking quickly towards the bedroom. She stood next to the bed, still in the dress she had worn to work, but she had taken off the shoes and panty hose that had felt like they were stifling her all day in the August heat. She stood and looked at Harge for a moment before looking back to a meaningless spot in space, not looking at anything or for anything. She felt Harge move closer and kiss her cheek, and she closed her eyes. She let him reach around and unzip her dress, and it fell to the ground silently and settled in an accordioned circle. Harge looked into her eyes.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Again, Carol said nothing, instead laying down on the bed and waiting.

 

After about five minutes, Carol not wanting to draw it out any longer than necessary, they were moving together, Harge on top of her and both breathing heavily. Suddenly Carol felt her breath coming more forcefully, a feeling of creeping vibration forming behind her eyes and in her throat. She let out one weak, involuntary cry and Harge moved away so he could look at her face, which was now stained with a single tear. He placed one hand against her cheek and looked at her intently.

 

She started to cry silently.

 

“Carol.” His face showed that he understood as he sighed and laid completely down on her, his head down next to hers while he stroked her hair. They were silent for a few moments.

 

“Carol. We don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you’re not ready. Or if you’re never ready. I want you to have what you want, whatever that is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I don't just flat-out tell you things. I want you to have to think about it and speculate. :)


	11. Knell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some answers, at last. Some of you are way too deep inside my head, reading my mind and predicting the future. Get out. ;)

Jasmine was shuffling her papers, staring fixedly down at them without looking at the door to be sure everyone had left. Carol knew what she was doing but just waited, glancing at her silky brown hair falling in front of her face as she bent down. Jasmine would be able to tell when everyone was gone because the silent, angry discomfort that fell between them whenever they were alone would be palpable. Carol thought back on all the time Jasmine had spent sucking up to her - that prolonged tactic that hadn’t made sense to Carol. Carol turned to her computer and started reading email, clearly not falling prey to Jasmine’s attempt to attract her attention. Eventually, Carol felt Jasmine’s eyes on her. When sounds finally pushed out of Jasmine’s mouth, their cheery tone felt like claws on Carol’s eardrums.

 

“I would love to work on the Lancome campaign. I was thinking you could put in a good word to Johnson for me.”

 

 _Cutting straight to the chase,_ Carol thought. Although it wasn’t surprising, considering how bold Jasmine had become in recent months. The sucking up schtick had waned, replaced by a firmer confidence which was now bordering on demanding. Carol finally looked at her, still waiting. Jasmine just stared back. Carol realized Jasmine wasn’t going to speak next. The little bitch. Using Carol’s own tactics on her. Carol looked back at her computer to temporarily break the fiery thread between their eyes that threatened to blind them both.

 

“That’s an important campaign. Your work is good but I’m not sure Johnson will think that this is an assignment for junior designers.”

 

“I’ve been on major campaigns before. And you’ve backed me up before. Why should this be any different?” She spoke with a tone of entitled determination. Carol looked at her and knew what she was insinuating. In an instant, both the tone of their words and the air in the room became crushing, almost unbearably sinister. Jasmine stared back, challenging Carol to argue with her and looking like she thought she could handle anything Carol might say to her. Carol stood up and leaned towards her.

 

“Be careful, Jasmine. Things are different now.”

 

Jasmine looked at her with gentle, open eyes and a sweet half smile.

 

“Yes, obviously. But if anything, I’d think you want my help even more now.” The half smile fell into line with the other side of her mouth. “I mean, the dynamic has changed around here. I’m guessing Johnson would be open to your suggestions. You two have a long history of working together. He trusts you.” As she spoke this last sentence, Jasmine glared at Carol menacingly before smiling again.

 

Carol was boiling. She placed her hands on her desk in front of her and leaned even closer to Jasmine. She let go of control of part of her calm facial expression but held back the tension in her arms that urged her to lunge at Jasmine or walk around to the other side of her desk and push her into it while standing an inch from her face. Carol knew she was something to be feared when she used her dominant body language, but she also knew she would only be giving Jasmine more reason to lash out if she did. She could feel her lips form a snarl, her teeth becoming visible when she said certain syllables. She whispered.

 

“You do not want to fuck with me. I’m done playing this game with you.”

 

Jasmine was still smiling.

 

“Are you sure? Seems like there’s an awful lot on the line for you.”

 

“If you want to run and tell him, go ahead. You want to get me fired, go ahead. We’re done. But rest assured, I will make sure you _never_ work in New York again. And if I see you so much as _look_ at her, I will…”

 

“What? Fuck me like one of the girls you prey on like they’re nothing? Finally show me who’s boss? Please, be my guest.” She lifted her eyebrows and bit her lip. “Or am I too old for you at this point? Does she even know what she’s in for? We both know she’s not like us.”

 

Carol was fuming. She genuinely thought she could kill her. She imagined wrapping her long fingers around her slender, perfumed neck, watching her face redden to the same color as her nails, the implements of death imbuing their victim with their essence.

 

“Get the fuck out of my office.”

 

Jasmine turned to leave, her outrageously bright fuschia dress staying as still as if it were stone, even when she walked. The sharp, straight pleats looked as if they could cut through flesh.

 

* * *

 

_July 2010, New York City_

 

Carol walked out of the doctor’s office and watched her heels disappear then reappear repeatedly behind the slightly flared bottoms of her slacks as she walked. One then the other, again and again. It was blazing hot, the sun high in the sky and the buzz of the summer cicadas assaulting her ears. She could feel her hair becoming limp in the heat, shrinking under the impossible burden. She could feel Harge next to her, but knew he wasn’t looking at her. When she got to the car and placed her hand on the scorching black door handle, she waited patiently for Harge to press the unlock button on the remote. He always waited until they were already at the car to press it and it drove her crazy, but today, she just stared down at her hand, letting the heat burn her palm, distracted by that chip in her nail that only days ago she had looked at with such pride. She had picked at it some, making it a little bigger, but hadn’t wanted to go to the salon and get it fixed. She wanted it there. The edges of where her thick layer of red polish met her actual nail were ragged slopes, roughly broken lines that defied everything she valued in her physical appearance - the primness, the perfection, the steely impenetrable exterior. She suddenly wanted to go immediately to the salon and get it fixed more than she had ever wanted anything else in her life.

 

Harge laid his hand palm up on the center console, and Carol just looked at it. Finally, his hand sought hers, which was limp and clammy. He picked it up and kissed the back of her hand. She raised her head to look at him.

 

All the things that had come alive over the past ten weeks, all the fear and hope and deep, private elation had died inside her. She didn’t know how long they’d been dead, either, and that was the worst part. She thought she had felt them, but they must have at some point become ghosts of their former selves. _When?_ She thought with disappointment at how angry she had been when she had first realized it. The past four weeks seemed like an eternity. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen had, and her first thought was one she looked back at now with disgust, but also a bit of envy. She was envious of that woman who had never planned to let another being define her or hold her back. Envious of her determination and confidence in how she _knew_ things would be. And she had allowed herself to abandon that certainty these past few weeks, allowed herself to freefall into shapeless space as she considered redefining where she was going next.

 

But here she was, alone like she always wanted, and all she wanted was to be emptied. To be free of this thing that remained in her, that taunted her tortuously. A reminder of the weakness and emotionality she so greatly despised in others. But she had chosen to wait, to hope nature had mercy on her soon so she could move on. As much as she wanted - and even needed - it to be removed, she needed to let it come naturally if it could even more. Let that hope and fear and _especially_ that elation be drained out of her in due time.

 

Carol was no stranger to loss, and she knew it would never leave her completely. Her brother still worked his way into her mind whenever she went back to Virginia, whenever she saw a blond, blue-eyed teenage boy, and whenever she heard his name referring to someone else, some stranger who had no idea they shared anything at all with someone she had loved so dearly. Someone who had given her the gift of hearing “I love you” for the first time in her life.

 

They still sat in the car in the parking lot, neither of them seeming to have any sense of where they were much less where they were going to go next. Harge knew better than to speak at this moment, but Carol felt the urge to say something. She turned to him.

 

“ _Why?_ ” There were tears in her eyes that she fought desperately to keep in. He looked at her and studied her face. They were silent for over a minute. She tried to keep her expression open enough for him to see all the other questions she was trying to convey with that one word. Why? Because she was her? Because she had thought immediately of ending it when she first found out? Because she deserved this after all she had done? Because she deserved to be punished for who she was? She knew Harge had at least some idea of what she was thinking.

 

“No, Carol. _No._ ”

 

* * *

 

Therese immediately picked up her phone when she got back to the studio and texted Carol.

 

T: Can you meet me somewhere to talk for a minute?

 

C: Sure. I don’t think you should come to my office. I’ll be in the copy room downstairs.

 

When Therese scanned her key card and entered the copy room, Carol was leaning against the counter, ankles crossed, biting one of her nails. Her face was paler than she had ever seen it. She let the door close behind her, its automatic lock clicking into place. There was a narrow vertical window on the door, so Therese moved along the same wall so she was out of sight of anyone who might look in the window. Therese spoke first.

 

“What the hell happened in your office? With Jasmine?”

 

Carol stared at the floor.

 

“She threatened me.”

 

“ _What?_ Why?”

 

“She wants me to recommend her for the Lancome project.”

 

Therese waited for more words, but they didn’t come. It still didn’t make sense, and she could already feel herself getting irritated.

 

“And? What did she threaten to do?”

 

Carol finally looked at her, running the nail she had been biting across her lower lip, digging into it to create a line of bare pink lip under that layer of blood red. The red from her lip had been transferred to her nail and the skin on the tip of her finger now bore the same sanguine hue.

 

“She is going to try to use my past against me. With Johnson. Tell him...” She trailed off.

 

Therese could tell by Carol’s face that she was desperate to end the conversation, but she wouldn’t acquiesce to Carol’s plea this time. She had let Carol off the hook so many times, had taken Carol’s periodic displays of vulnerability as sufficient return for the trust she placed in her, but she realized it was no longer enough. Therese had given her space, tried not to invade the life Carol was still extracting herself from, yet she was beginning to feel like that life wasn’t capable of being left behind. It would never die. Therese had been so drawn to, in love with, changed by Carol that her tolerance of all of this had been high because it had been easy - she was willing to sacrifice in order to hold on to this. But now she was flailing through the air, using her gravity to try to keep up with Carol and catch her as they fell, but she increasingly felt herself lightening, watching Carol fall harder and faster beneath her, out of sight.

 

Therese felt herself breathing heavier, her irritation rising until it escaped her mouth.

 

“What did you do?”

 

Carol said nothing.

 

“ _Carol._ ” Therese was almost yelling.

 

“A few years ago, the firm went to a conference in San Francisco. All the big fish were there, including Johnson. Spouses, families, everyone. It’s one of the biggest networking events in the country. It’s when we first started going after international clients. Jasmine had come along-”

 

Therese interrupted her.

 

“Why? Why was she there when she was brand new?” Therese thought back to when Cory and April had mentioned all the events Jasmine had gone to when she first started working there. Jasmine had brushed it all off like it was nothing.

 

“Jasmine is…” Carol sighed and dropped her arms to her sides, then crossed them. “She’s very skilled at getting what she wants. She has all the things you need to charm people. We had chosen to bring her when we went to that conference because we truly did want a young, talented designer with cutting-edge work there to show off. They wanted millennial voices for this new age in digital - and as terrible as it sounds, she had the right look and enough talent to represent our company well.”

 

There was a pause and Therese shook her head slightly.

 

“So what did you do?”

 

“Well, we had all had dinner one night, Harge and I with the rest of the leadership team and of course Jasmine, and with Johnson and his wife and daughters. We had quite a bit to drink, so we were there late into the night. Johnson’s older daughter sought me out later in the evening and Jasmine…” She stopped again. She looked like she was going to be sick.

 

“Jasmine what?” Therese was still speaking forcefully, and she could feel her insides turning. She knew what was coming.

 

“She caught us.” Carol was still looking at the floor.

 

“You fucked Johnson’s daughter?” Therese was speaking quite loudly, but she didn’t care. “How old was she even? I thought his kids were still in college?”

 

Carol spoke quietly.

 

“Nineteen, maybe.” Her eyes finally moved bit by tiny bit up to meet Therese’s.


	12. Mirrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #angst

Carol’s eyes finally met hers, and Therese gave herself time to look into them before saying anything else. There was something in them she couldn’t quite place her finger on. It wasn’t shame, or guilt, or even sadness. Resignation? She looked as if she could be on her way to the electric chair, done fighting or hoping for a different outcome. Therese let her eyes travel down to Carol’s lips, still and expressionless, her well-shaped jaw unmoving, and the necklace around her neck looking like it was cemented to her chest. It was a bold silver pendant that looked like a warped, tilted figure-eight with sharp, unforgiving spikes piercing the curves of the figure, creating vicious punctures that tore into the interior of the closed circles. It hung from a delicate silver chain that looked like it could barely support the weight. Therese felt an overwhelming desire to rip it off her. She forced herself to look back at Carol, then spoke quietly.

 

“I’ve never even been in love before.” She saw Carol’s brow furrow just the tiniest bit, and Therese averted her eyes and looked down at the cuff on the wrist of her gray knit sweater. The wool ran over and over, criss-crossing every millimeter to lock the pattern in place even tighter with every stitch. “So I don’t know how this is supposed to go, but…” She looked back up at Carol. “Is it supposed to be this _hard_?”

 

She could see that violent infinity symbol vibrating into life as Carol’s chest started to rise and fall quickly. Her eyes looked frenzied, like she was fighting between countless voices in her head, all telling her different things. Eventually, something won out and she walked quickly to Therese. She left about six inches of space between them, placing her hands on Therese’s hips. Therese bent her head to look at a distant spot on the floor, then tilted it to the side, a broken flower hanging loosely and crookedly off its stem. She could see Carol’s knees bending slightly, the fabric of her skirt creating taut lines of tension that roused an uncomfortable feeling of being suspended, on the edge of something that could break if stretched just the slightest bit farther. Therese could feel Carol moving her head, trying to catch Therese’s eye, but she kept her head down. She didn’t want to look into Carol’s eyes. She didn’t want to look at Carol’s lips, whose red curve had met so many others, or her body, whose lithe graceful shape had been pressed against so many others. Her avoidance wasn’t really about the number of lovers Carol had had or the manner in which she had met or fucked them. It was about the fact that she was the latest in this seemingly endless line, of which she couldn’t see the beginning, and she couldn’t imagine how she could be the end. How could she trust her heart to this person? How had she? She had never trusted it to any other woman, and here she was, staying open and willing and raw for Carol and getting flayed and beaten down in the process. Was this the way love was supposed to be?

 

Carol was still crouched to Therese’s eye level, finally wrapping her arms around Therese and pulling her in. Therese let her do it, but only placed her hands lightly on Carol’s back. She pulled herself away from Carol and looked straight into her eyes. Their blue looked dull and faded, like the vibrant color had just begun to be pulled inward, threatening to retreat entirely. Therese wanted to reach for them, but her arms were tired of reaching. If Carol wanted to fall back and float away, that was her choice. Therese started looking around the room, thinking about what she was going to do next. Carol held her upper arms firmly, seeking her gaze and Therese let her catch it. She spoke barely above a whisper.

 

“I love you.”

 

Therese felt her heart flutter, like it always did when Carol uttered those words, but that flutter set into motion not a mirrored response, but a question she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

 

“Did you fuck her?” Therese’s voice was even and unemotional, as if she were asking if it had rained the previous day.

 

Carol’s eyes changed shape as she adjusted to the new train of thought.

 

“Who?”

 

Therese was upset by Carol even asking.

 

“Jasmine.”

 

“No! No. Absolutely not. What would make you think that? You really think I would do that?”

 

“Can you blame me?” Therese regretted it as soon as she said it. Carol opened her mouth slightly and let go of her, backing up a few steps.

 

“You know, I…” She let out a short laugh of disbelief, shaking her head slightly as she looked at her, her expression looking like she was seeing Therese for the first time. Therese didn’t back down and stared at her defiantly. “That’s not fair.”

 

“You know what’s not fair? How I keep being blindsided by all this shit you’ve done. You couldn’t have found a way to tell me some of this in the past six months? All this time, you’ve had this secret with her and you didn’t bother to tell me? You don’t care that I’ve looked like a fucking idiot this entire time?”

 

Carol looked taken aback, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. Therese knew Carol was shocked at the intensity of Therese’s words, but she was tired of holding them in, of holding back this side of herself from Carol. If she was truly the exception to the rule, the young girl who actually meant something to Carol, Carol should be able to handle it. Carol made Therese feel like it was a privilege, not a right, to see her vulnerable and cede control, and she was exhausted from having to coax it out of her - in emotional moments, in bed, in public.

 

“I do care. But you’re being very aggressive right now, and I don’t think I deserve it.”

 

Therese didn’t say anything, so Carol continued.

 

“You know, I realize that I haven’t been forthcoming about my past. And I’m working on it. But what about yours? Haven’t you ever done something you regret? Hurt someone when you knew better?”

 

Therese was surprised by the question, as she assumed Carol would think Therese had never intentionally or knowingly hurt a romantic partner. But the truth was, she had. She had knowingly hurt almost all her girlfriends. She didn’t think Carol would ever suspect it, though, and it made her uneasy that she would even ask. How dare she try to incriminate Therese to make her behavior look less reckless? She realized that’s what Carol was - _reckless_ \- it wasn’t that she had been with so many girls, or even that she had used them to fill a void in her life - it was that she acted impulsively, and, Therese sensed, even compulsively. To trust someone like that is to put yourself at great risk, and she almost resented that she was so in love with Carol, that she had never loved anyone else, and that she felt there would be no escape without having to live with the fact that she broke her own heart. Thinking about it objectively, Therese had actually done worse than fuck random girls - she had told girls who truly cared for her, who were emotionally invested in her, that she _loved_ them, knowing it wasn’t true. She looked at Carol.

 

“Did you ever tell any of them you loved them? Made promises?”

 

Carol made a face as if the question was ludicrous.

 

“Of course not. I didn’t love them. And I knew I couldn’t keep any promises.”

 

Somehow this made Therese feel worse, like she had fallen off whatever pedestal she had convinced herself she deserved to stand on. Carol had trusted Therese with _her_ heart, even if it was tentative or slow to emerge sometimes, and had no idea about how Therese had crushed the other women who had been so generous. She realized, finally, that they were both flawed, guilty, and jaded, a pair badly suited for navigating a long-term relationship but who had by a merciless twist of fate fallen deeply, profoundly in love.

 

* * *

 

_June 2016, San Francisco, California_

 

Carol watched Jasmine throw her head back, her smooth brown hair displaced, the gently curved ends splaying out between the front and back of her shoulders like the legs of a beautiful but dangerous insect that appeared to have landed and arranged itself randomly, but was curating its position with inhuman precision. As she lifted her head back to its normal position, she leaned into the table and towards the right, almost under Johnson’s nose. His arm was draped loosely over the back of her chair, and he watched her engage in her carefree mirth with a small but persistent smile. While Carol was sipping her drink, she thought she saw Jasmine’s eyes look over at her, their brown irises cracked into a million pieces through the jagged, triangular textured patterns that adorned the glass. When she lowered the glass from her mouth, she caught the tail end of Jasmine’s gaze just before she turned away from Carol. Carol knew Jasmine was looking to see if Carol was watching her. She immediately went back to her loose, easy laughing, hitting Johnson on the shoulder lightly as he made some undoubtedly suggestive remark. Her silky, pale pink dress settled on her delicately, the thin straps and loose fabric skimming the curves of her body teasingly.

 

The larger group had dwindled considerably, families and wives long having left the table to retire to their rooms. Only the leadership of the firm, Johnson, and the other industry executives remained at the table, lubricated and ready to extol one another’s business prowess and make verbal agreements to be hammered out later on paper. Of course, Jasmine was still there as well. Carol looked around the table, seeing that every man there was watching Jasmine as she entertained them effortlessly. Harge was smiling politely, sipping only his second drink of the evening. Carol was on her fifth - or was it sixth? Despite having consumed them over the course of four or five hours, she felt quite hazy, lost in the heaviness of her liquor-induced contemplation. The men watched Jasmine like she was a fine prize, something to be admired and perhaps never even attempted to be caught. There was a direct relationship between unattainability and the attraction to whatever drew one’s interest. Carol knew it because she had become an expert at it.

 

_Fucking idiots led by their dicks._

 

Harge moved to get up, mentioning how tired he was, and looked over to Carol. She looked back at him, swirling her drink in her hand. She gave herself a moment to contemplate the question in his eyes. She looked back at Jasmine. She could still feel Harge’s eyes on her, but didn’t give in and look back. Harge looked around at the rest of the table, and while most of the others were lost in conversation, Johnson had seen their silent interaction, and Jasmine looked over at Carol every few seconds. Harge placed his hand on Carol’s upper back.

 

“Carol. Can we talk for a moment? I want to make sure we have the schedule set up for tomorrow.”

 

Carol threw the last of her bourbon into her mouth, a tiny rebellious drop threatening to spill over her bottom lip, but she caught it with her finger as she ran it slowly over that lip. She stood up and followed Harge to the secluded corner of the entryway to the restaurant, out of sight of the table. When they came to a stop, Carol crossed her arms and looked at him.

 

“What?” She was irritated and starting to feel her head throb.

 

Harge leaned in closer.

 

“Are you sure you want to stay?” He was speaking gently, but Carol knew what he was getting at, and it infuriated her.

 

She raised her voice significantly.

 

“What are you insinuating? That I can’t make decisions for myself? I really don’t fucking need you to take care of me.” She looked at him angrily, then realized something. “And you have no right to anymore, anyway.”

 

Harge rarely got upset enough to raise his voice, but he almost matched Carol’s volume.

 

“I have every right, when what you do affects this business. Affects me. And fucking your employee affects me. And fucking every young girl who crosses your path, _affects me_. I get that you have this… whatever this is that makes you do these things. But you can hurt this business.”

 

Harge cared about the business and how Carol’s behavior might affect it, but she knew he was really angry over how her actions affected him personally. And now, thinking she was planning on fucking Jasmine, and knowing he would have to face a reminder of that every day at work from now on, he had finally confronted her about it. Carol usually had the decency to keep all her conquests completely separate from him, never allowing them to cross paths. She had risked it, bringing girls to the apartment, but it was after Harge had moved out. This would be different.

 

“Harge, I have no interest in her. I’m trying to watch out for us. I’m doing _us_ a favor.” Carol had been watching Jasmine to assess the level of threat she posed, and it was frighteningly high. Her careful observation of her all night was research, but Harge didn’t have the eye for unearthing people’s motivations that Carol did. “You really think I would do something so fucking stupid?”

 

Harge’s eyes narrowed, then he looked at Carol with something nearing amusement.

 

“Can you blame me?”

 

Carol uncrossed her arms and turned, not looking at him as she walked briskly back toward the table. As she approached the entrance to the dining room, she saw the bottom hem of a slinky light pink dress flutter around the corner in front of her.


	13. Belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have had a nice few days to take a break, let the ideas swirl in my head, and - oh yeah - do that life thing. :D We're going to pick up on the same day.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to the studio with her in there and pretend everything is normal.” Therese made the statement with the inflection of a question, wanting Carol to have some miraculous solution, since she felt it was Carol who had put her in this position in the first place.

 

“Well. You could probably sneak out for the rest of the afternoon. Or say you need to go stock up on supplies.” Therese could tell Carol had no better ideas.

 

“The company buys supplies. There’s no reason I would ever need to go buy anything.”

 

“Just go. No one is going to question it.”

 

Therese realized she had been so worried about the rest of the afternoon that she had forgotten the more important problem: seeing Jasmine every day for the foreseeable future.

 

“How the hell am I going to keep working with her? How are _you_ going to keep working with her?” Therese wasn’t even looking at Carol, not really expecting an answer, instead asking the room, the universe. She realized something and looked up at Carol. “You’ve been doing it for years.”

 

Carol sighed.

 

“It’s difficult to have success in business if you’re not willing to be uncomfortable. Tension and conflict is inevitable. Even necessary. I’ve grown used to it. If you want to run a business - especially as a woman - you have to harden yourself to the antagonism.”

 

Therese saw the hint of that Carol who presided solemnly over the firm, the Carol who so effortlessly manipulated her superiors and colleagues - particularly the male ones, the Carol who was able to extend that unfeeling, strategic thinking to the rest of her life as well. Therese had felt herself hammering away at Carol, and had created deep enough cracks in her seemingly impenetrable surface to crawl inside her, yet she could still see untouched barriers. She was looking at them from the inside, but they still worried her. Could those barriers begin to strengthen again over time, the broken ends Therese had created begin to grow towards one another again, threatening to close her off? And if they did, would Therese ramain inside her, or be pushed out by force of habit? She hadn’t considered that Carol could backslide from the hard-won progress she had made since Therese came into her life, but people - and life - weren’t unidirectional. She suddenly felt panicked thinking about the inevitable backward slant of Carol’s journey to openness. The reality was, though, that she had done little to let Carol into her. She wondered if Carol worried about the same thing - or if she even felt she had been let inside Therese at all.

 

“Just go, Therese. If anyone asks, I’ll find a way to cover.” She saw the hesitation in Therese’s eyes. “It won’t come directly from me, don’t worry.” She bit one half of her bottom lip, as if holding something back while simultaneously giving the other side of her mouth the opportunity to say it. She released the silenced half of her mouth slowly and spoke softly. “I know I’ve told you before, but none of them meant anything. You believe me, right?”

 

“It’s not even about that, Carol. It’s about everything you don’t tell me that affects me. That affects us. _That’s_ what makes me wonder sometimes who or what you really belong to - your past and whatever in you compels you to hide it from me?” As Therese spoke the last sentence, she realized she should be directing the same question at herself. She thought about the uselessness of having the self-awareness to realize her own problems if she didn’t take any steps to work on them. It was infinitely easier to use whatever emotional intelligence she had to push others to chip away at _their_ problems.

 

Carol answered the question with a question.

 

“Will you stay with me tonight? Please?” Carol asked questions that opened her to the possibility of being told “No” often enough, but she rarely used the word “please” in such instances.

 

“Yeah. I’ll text you later.”

 

* * *

 

When Therese stepped out the doors of the office onto the sidewalk, she looked around, as if she didn’t know which way it was to the subway station where she had descended to catch her train five days a week for the past six months. She looked left, which would take her further from that station. She could go that way. She couldn’t remember the next stop in that direction, but she could wander around until she found it. Or she could just zigzag across the gridded streets, finding a random station without worrying about where it took her. But would she feel any less trapped in her anxiety just by avoiding the track that would certainly lead her directly into its depths? Those depths would require her to excavate her own intractable sludge, the muddy and cloudy emotional detritus she had covered with her confidence in her own superiority over those who were victims to theirs. Her feet remained planted in the exact spot she had come to a stop outside the building, having made no move in one direction or the other. She moved toward the familiar station that would lead her home.

 

* * *

 

Noelle was sitting cross-legged on the couch with her laptop spread across her uneven legs, the cat draped over one of her thighs no doubt biding her time before she made her next attempt to lay on the keyboard. Melody sat primly on the other couch cushion, far too sophisticated to attempt the sprawling desperation of her feline sister. Noelle was looking at her phone, and her iPad laid on the other side of her. Still in her contemplative state, Therese the noticed that Noelle was wearing her Apple watch, too. How the hell did she focus on any one thing? The potential for so many sensory inputs swirled into a massive soup of digital stimulation was dizzying to Therese. There was already too much confusion in her head, so many discordant thoughts, some pulling her further in, towards them, into the darkness, and others pushing her out, spreading her out, stretching her thin and translucent. Noelle was still staring at her phone, not acknowledging Therese’s presence.

 

“You look ridiculous.”

 

Noelle looked up. She was wearing the wire-rimmed glasses she wore when she was working on her computer for a long stretch, and Therese always marveled at her choice in frames - they were distinctly unlike her - they had a dorky quality that in no way matched the rest of Noelle’s appearance or demeanor.

 

“Why?”

 

Therese walked towards her and motioned with her hand at all the devices.

 

“You literally get one text message in four different places at once.”

 

Noelle looked down at her stuff, and Therese could tell it was the first time Noelle had thought about it. She looked blankly at it for a minute, clearly not being able to come up with a clever retort since she jumped right into asking Therese about her day.

 

“Why are you home already?”

 

“Oh god. You don’t even want to know.”

 

“Well, now that you said that, of course not. Sounds boring. Please don’t tell me.” She tossed all her devices away, eliciting a dissatisfied meow from the cat as she was thrown off her leg.

 

“You know Jasmine?” Noelle had only met Jasmine once or twice in passing, and she made it very clear to Therese that she didn’t like her.

 

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

Therese started telling her what had happened, getting up after about 30 seconds to pour herself a drink. She stopped to hold up the bottle of bourbon to Noelle.

 

“No I’m good.”

 

Two drinks later and finally at the end of the tale, Therese sat reclined on the couch trying to balance her glass on her stomach without allowing it to slide down and hit Melody in the face.

 

At that moment the door flew open with a bang, and Therese heard the sound of rustling plastic and something hard slamming into the door. She turned to see Dylan struggling with several grocery bags and leaning precariously on one foot, already trying to slip off a sneaker before even putting the bags down.

 

“Hey girls.” He walked into the kitchen without looking at them, putting the bags on the counter. "Therese, I got that dark roast your mom liked last time she came. Plus that hummus from the specialty deli place that she was so into. We really offer the full fine dining experience here, if I do say so myself."

 

Therese was always impressed at how thoughtful Dylan was, especially since it wasn't even his own mother who was coming to visit, but she and Noelle were staring at him, still lost in the serious thoughts of their intense conversation. When he looked up to see them, his face changed to an expression of surprise, like he was caught doing something rude.

 

“You know that feeling when you walk into a room and immediately feel like you’re unwelcome and the other people just want you to get the fuck out?”

 

Therese laughed as Dylan threw a few items in the fridge then disappeared down the hall. Noelle turned back towards Therese.

 

“Wow.” Noelle was half-sitting, half-lying against the arm of the other couch, looking intently into Therese’s eyes. Therese looked down at Melody in her lap and stroked her with one hand. She knew what Noelle was trying to see in her eyes and she didn’t want to give it up. Noelle sensed it and Therese figured she was about to move on to her characteristic rambling she indulged in whenever she wanted to waste time or deflect attention from something else happening.

 

“She is so broken.”

 

Therese’s eyes shot up. She wasn’t expecting such a pointed statement, especially about Carol. Noelle usually tried to balance her natural tendency to be too direct with a sensitivity she sensed was necessary when talking to Therese about Carol. Therese said nothing and waited for Noelle to speak again.

 

“It seems naive and almost disrespectful, but sometimes it’s hard to imagine someone so beautiful can experience such intense pain.”

 

* * *

 

Therese lifted her fist to knock on Carol’s door at 8:23, having caught the flash of the hour and minute hands on her watch as it whooshed by her face. Carol opened the door.

 

“You don’t have to knock. Just use your key.”

 

Carol said this to Therese constantly, but she rarely didn’t knock; only using the key when she knew Carol wasn’t home. Despite how much time she spent there, Carol’s apartment didn’t feel like home.

 

Therese kissed Carol quickly, then gave her a small but loving smile. She brought her makeup bag into the bathroom and placed it on the counter carefully next to Carol’s display of powders, lipsticks, and brushes, all organized by shade and size.

 

When she emerged, Carol was pouring drinks. She thought about refusing it, but her head was already starting to hint at aching from the two she had had earlier, and she knew another would stave off that headache for a bit.

 

Therese hopped up and sat on the kitchen counter, something she found herself doing often despite there being many comfortable seating options in Carol’s living room. This left Carol essentially no choice but to either hop up on the counter as well, which she never did, or stand between Therese’s legs, which Therese knew she loved. It put her face just a bit higher than Carol’s, requiring Carol to stand on her tiptoes to kiss her if Therese didn’t choose to lean down to help her reach. Carol was running her hands along Therese’s thighs, her drink forgotten on the counter.

 

Therese put her glass down and raked the fingers of both hands through Carol’s hair gently, feeling the slight resistance of the hairspray holding her smooth blonde curls in place before it acquiesced to her fingers. Therese rarely used hairspray, but she could imagine the tiny twinges of pain Carol must feel on her scalp as the hair was pulled out of its set facade. Carol looked up at her as if she alone held the answers to the questions that would determine her future. Therese felt privileged to hold such weight in Carol’s life, but she also felt guilt at her own lies of omission and the nagging doubt about whether Carol would really be able to pry herself out of the grip her past held on her, to disentangle herself from that force - whatever its nature was - that Therese sometimes thought was the true altar at which Carol prayed. The one she belonged to.

 

Carol placed her hands under Therese and pulled her off the counter carefully, catching her by the hips right before Therese’s feet hit the floor, making sure they landed softly. Carol closed her eyes and Therese studied Carol’s face carefully. A light layer brown eyeshadow was still perfectly but carelessly brushed across her eyelids, the faint lines on her lips were camouflaged by her red lipstick, but still created enough texture to add dimension to their soft surface. Therese watched Carol’s face move closer to hers until she made contact, and Therese allowed her eyes to close as she surrendered to the feel of those lips sliding on her own, imagining those textured lines were creating some of the friction that kindled her desire to get even closer to Carol.

 

Therese lightly pushed Carol away from her so she could walk towards the bedroom. Carol followed, her footsteps so silent that Therese was surprised to see Carol only inches in front of her once she finally reached the edge of the bed and turned around. Carol looked at her, then hopped up on the bed and swung her legs up and laid down on her back in the middle of the bed. Therese just looked at her, feeling a quiet trepidation at Carol’s action. Even though Carol liked for Therese to take charge, there was always that silent moment of hesitation before she submitted. But now, Carol had showed her cards first and invited Therese to take without having to ask.

 

Therese climbed on top of her and laid her body down against her. As she began to kiss her, she felt Carol’s legs escape from under hers. Therese propped herself up on her hands and looked down to see Carol’s legs outside her own, bent at the knee so that her skirt began to stretch along her thighs as it moved up involuntarily. Therese sat up on her knees and ran her hands along the sheer black fabric of Carol’s tights and slid them in between the snug space between tights and skirt, all the way up to her waist before moving her hands toward one another then sliding them back down in between Carol’s legs, applying light, teasing pressure as they passed over Carol’s center. Carol moved herself up to try to get more pressure from Therese’s fingers, then sighed and opened her eyes, which had closed at some point during the ascent of Therese’s hands.

 

Therese looked at her intently.

 

Carol took one of Therese’s hands into her own and placed it back between her legs, trying to grind her hips up into Therese again.

  
“I belong to _you_.” She let out a heavy breath but held eye contact as Therese began to move her hand. “Have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like someone is being more open than the other. How the tables have turned.


	14. Nurture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are you a pothead, Focker?"
> 
> Extra points to whoever gets me.

Therese was staring at the clock all day on Thursday, constantly disappointed by how slowly time was passing. She had planned on leaving at 2 to meet her mother at Penn station, but by 1:30 she was already filing away her papers and throwing her art supplies into the various organizers she had bought in an attempt to corral her usual piles of junk all over her desk. Therese had resolved to implement various organizational strategies of late, admiring how Carol’s desk was arranged, everything in its place. When she was alone in Carol’s apartment, she sometimes opened Carol’s dresser drawers just to run her fingertips along the perfectly aligned cups of her bras, nestled into one another but spaced evenly so their colors were visible. She would sometimes even slip one of her pairs of silky underwear out of its neat arrangement and hold them up to her nose, always glancing around as if she were worried someone would catch her doing something so naughty, even when she knew no one else was there. She felt like an consummate creep, but just the faintest scent of Carol elicited an unmatched electric shock between her legs.

 

Despite her desire to keep her desk clear, she usually ended up leaving everything strewn across its surface, too impatient to clean up before she left for the night. But at the end of the week, she made an effort to put everything away so that the depression of coming in on Sunday was at least a bit lessened.

 

“Have fun with your mom!” Jasmine called from across the room as Therese made her way towards the door quietly. That girl didn’t miss anything, despite the fact that when Therese looked over at her right before she got up, Jasmine had been facing the window, bent over the sill writing something. Therese just gave her a weak smile in response and strode out into the office with purposeful, loud footsteps. She walked by Carol’s office to see the door closed, and she caught the familiar imposing figure with dark hair heavily infiltrated with gray sitting across from her desk. Johnson rarely went into his employees’ offices, preferring to have them come to him. Therese slowed as she passed, looking obliquely in through the window to try to catch a glance at Carol’s face, but she couldn’t see it.

 

* * *

 

Her mother smiled when she caught a glimpse of Therese’s face through the random chaos of Penn station. People passed by in between them, walking straight ahead or lingering to look back at someone they knew, or even stopping in the middle of the thoroughfare to look up at a sign or turn around to see if they were going in the right direction. They all had somewhere to be, someone to get to or get away from or try to forget about. Even the suited professionals, who might be traveling for work, probably had thoughts of someone or something they left behind. Therese silently mocked herself for sliding into contemplative thoughts here; it was such a cliche to ponder the ways in which we all came and went in different points in our lives the way these people came and went from this station. But it was a cliche for a reason - it was hard not to think these things as one watched the bustle of frenzied ants.

 

Therese hugged her, loosening her grip when she felt how small and seemingly frail her mother was. She always forgot that despite her own petiteness, her mother was smaller still.

 

“It’s so good to see you. Let’s get out of here, honey, there are too many people. I can’t even think.”

 

Therese took her mother’s small overnight bag and turned around to smile at her again. It was odd but comforting to be in the presence of someone who knew her so completely, who knew her when she was going to art camp and drawing poorly proportioned human faces, who knew her when she used to cry with nervousness before every softball game she played in middle school, and who always let Therese come to her conclusions in her own time. Therese had realized over time that the reason her mother never pushed her was because she trusted that Therese would eventually do the right thing herself, even if it took her longer than she would like.

 

Therese had told her mother a few months ago that she was dating someone, but her mother knew little about Carol other than her name and what she did. Her mother had said nothing about Carol having been Therese’s boss previously, but Therese knew she was probably curious about how the relationship came about. Therese felt guilty for not giving her mother more details, but she felt uncomfortable trying to explain Carol to anyone, nevermind her mother. If the clashing of worlds she felt when Carol met Noelle and Dylan was nerve-wracking, the idea of Carol meeting her mother was almost unbearable. But why? It was as if her allowing her mother to see the relationship up close would make her own guilt about keeping secrets from Carol real, because it was one of those instances where her mother would want Therese to do the right thing. Of course, her mother didn’t know the details of Therese’s dating history and how she had treated past girlfriends, but she knew from the way her mother spoke of Lauren that she knew Therese was withholding her affections, her true self.

 

As they rode the subway towards the apartment, talking about Therese’s job and her mother’s recent foray into yoga, Therese was wondering if she should have invited Carol to meet her mother. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but now Therese realized that she had simply told Carol that she wouldn’t be staying with her at all this weekend because of her mother’s visit. She hadn’t considered whether Carol would feel slighted that Therese had no intention of introducing them, even after six months. But she recalled that whenever Therese brought up her mother, Carol seemed to tense a bit. As if the word “mother” set her on the edge of not only sadness, but a sort of grief.

 

When they arrived at the apartment, Noelle and Dylan were scurrying around, no doubt trying to clean up at the last second. Therese had already straightened up the apartment that morning, but since they had both been home all day, she had no doubt they had managed to litter the apartment with abandoned coffee mugs, discarded clothing, and the random items they had to dig out of their travel bags that they never fully unpacked because they were gone so often.

 

“Liz!” Dylan practically yelled from across the kitchen, coming over to give Therese’s mother a hug. “You’re looking lovely as always.”

 

Therese looked over to see Noelle rolling her eyes. Dylan flirted with everyone, but he had previously shared the fact that he thought Therese’s mom was “pretty hot”. Her mother was only in her late forties, and Dylan loved to tell her how she looked like she could be Therese’s sister. Her mother laughed, and Therese savored the sound. She didn’t see her mother enough, and seeing her happy and laughing just reminded her of how much joy it brought her to see Therese. She always meant to visit home more, but there was always a reason not to.

 

* * *

 

After dinner and a few drinks, Therese caught her mother looking at her.

 

“What?” She asked innocently.

 

Her mother turned to Noelle.

 

“So, you’ve met Carol, I assume?”

 

Noelle immediately looked over at Therese, assessing her face and trying to get a hint at how she should approach this conversation.

 

“Yep.”

 

Therese’s mother watched Noelle expectantly.

 

“And?”

 

Therese was surprised at how forward her mother was being, but she figured the third glass of wine had something to do with it.

 

“She’s really lovely. Smart, successful…” She looked down at her plate, one bite of bread left lonely amidst the crumbs of what had apparently been flavorful enough to warrant finishing it. “Beautiful.”

 

“Hm.” Her mother looked over at Therese. “And will I meet her?”

 

Therese took a sip of her drink and looked at Noelle first, then Dylan, as if hoping they would answer instead.

 

“If you want, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

Therese finally laid down in bed just after midnight, pulling her phone out of her pocket and staring at the picture on her lock screen. It was of Carol, and she had taken it while they were sitting on a bench in Central Park. The day had been windy, and Carol’s blonde curls were blown lightly from her face, which was turned towards the camera from the side, as she had just been facing forward, looking out at the park when Therese caught the picture as she turned. She was wearing dark sunglasses, her mouth set in a close-lipped smile that had crept onto her face as soon as she turned to see Therese. She knew it was a risk to have a picture of Carol as her background given that anyone at work could inadvertently see it, but it brought a smile to her face every time she used her phone.

 

T: Hi babe.

 

C: Hi. How’s everything going with your mom?

 

Therese felt a pang of guilt. Clearly, Carol was acutely aware of what Therese was doing.

 

T: Good. How’s everything with you?

 

C: Oh fine, working. Not everyone has Fridays off.

 

T: Not everyone has to work on Sundays.

 

She tapped her thumb against the side of her phone, thinking about what to say next.

 

T: So... I wanted to ask you something.

 

C: All right.

 

T: You can say no. There’s really no pressure at all, and I totally understand if you’re uncomfortable with it so don’t worry about it.

 

She could imagine Carol sitting on her bed with her glasses on, waiting for Therese to spit it out. Therese waited, needing Carol to acknowledge what she said.

 

C: I’m on the edge of my seat.

 

T: Well, my mom kind of wants to meet you. I’m totally aware that it could be incredibly awkward so don’t worry about it if you think it’ll be too uncomfortable.

 

Carol said nothing for a few seconds, then Therese finally saw the three dots appear on the screen. They stopped, and nothing came for a few seconds. Finally, she got it.

 

C: Do you want me to meet her?

 

Therese wasn’t sure if the question implied that Carol didn’t want to but would do it if Therese wanted her to, or if it was something else.

 

T: Sure? Only if you want.

 

C: Do you want me to meet her?

 

Therese was confused about why Carol repeated herself, but realized she would have to give a firm answer.

 

T: Yes.

 

* * *

 

The sun was struggling to break through the clouds, trying to throw off the gloom that had enveloped the city for most of Saturday morning. Therese was sitting on the couch, her mother across from her on the other one, calmly sipping her tea. When Therese looked up, she saw her mother looking at her intently, as if trying to figure out what she was thinking. Therese stopped shaking her foot that was against the edge of the coffee table and moved the nail she had been biting away from her mouth. Therese held her mother’s gaze until she finally looked back down into her tea, smiling slightly. Therese was now the one desperate to know what her mother was thinking.

 

At the sound of the knock, Therese hesitated a moment and breathed in and out once deeply before getting up. When she opened the door, she saw Carol standing there calmly, dressed in a pair of slim-fitting black pants, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a pair of fuschia flats. Therese’s eyes lingered on them, having never seen them before, and shocked at their brightness. When she met Carol’s eyes again, she saw a look of concern, no doubt in response to whatever expression Therese was making. As Carol walked into the entryway, still out of sight of the living room, she placed her hand on Therese’s forearm and whispered.

 

“It’s going to be fine, baby.”

 

They entered the living room and Therese’s mother stood up to move over towards them. Therese’s heart was pounding watching them shake hands and say hello, as if at any moment everything could fall apart and… what? She didn’t know what she was worried would happen. That they would start fighting? That her mother would punch Carol in the face? Once they were sitting, Therese looked at Carol, her confidence emanating from her effortlessly. Therese let her eyes travel up from Carol’s shocking, colorful shoes, up her long crossed legs, along her slender midsection, and up to the perfectly smooth curve of her breasts. When she studied those fine lines on Carol’s face that she loved so much, she realized that Carol was almost exactly between her and her mother in age. Carol didn’t look like her previous girlfriends, she was a woman. A powerful, confident, responsible _woman_ who knew what she wanted.

 

After her assessment of Carol, Therese watched her mother’s face, trying to discern the contents of her brain by watching the slight movements of her features. She was smiling and the conversation seemed to be flowing easily, but Therese was losing track of what they were saying, the distinctness of the words fading into a dull, continuous din as she focused all her attention on watching them. She realized that both of them were completely calm, and she was the only one who was uncomfortable.

 

“She’s very talented.” Therese was suddenly jolted out of her reverie by the feel of Carol’s hand sliding into her own, Carol’s soft fingers sliding against her palm. Therese looked down at Carol’s steady hand, then lifted her eyes immediately over to her mother, who was looking at Carol amiably, her head tilted slightly to the side. Therese knew for a fact that her mother would notice the small gesture of affection, but she didn’t return Therese’s gaze, instead remaining focused on Carol.

 

* * *

 

When Carol and her mother had said their goodbyes, Therese followed Carol to the door and walked through it behind Carol, holding the door open just an inch with her heel, not wanting to get locked out. Carol turned, clearly surprised to see that Therese had followed her out the door. Therese reached out her hand to pull Carol closer to her. Therese had to say something to describe how proud she was to be with Carol, but couldn’t think of the right words, having to settle for something simple.

 

“You’re amazing.”

 

Carol smiled and leaned in to kiss Therese softly. When she pulled back and looked into her eyes, her hands still holding Therese’s face gently, Therese searched them, debating whether they could continue to look at her with such pure admiration if she shared everything she had been keeping inside her. But here was Carol, just having done something that she couldn’t have done in a very long time - if ever - and inside was her mother, always having faith in her to do what was right. Therese could feel the words in her throat but teetered on the edge of releasing them, finally just letting go as if she were jumping off a cliff into what she knew would be freezing water.

 

“I owe you explanations.” It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say, but she was just grateful to have gotten something out.

 

“About what?”

 

“Me.”

 

Carol looked at her quizzically, but nodded.

 

“All right baby.” She moved forward again and kissed Therese deeper this time, and Therese could feel her trying to tell her something. Therese couldn’t quite tell what it was, so she just gave into Carol and let herself feel possessed by her lips. Carol backed away and whispered.

 

“Thank you.”

 

As she watched Carol walk down the hall, foot still lodged in the door, she saw Carol turn back to look at her briefly, the corners of her mouth turned up just the slightest bit, creating something just short of a smile. Therese gave herself a moment to lean against the door frame before going back inside. Her mother was in the kitchen when Therese came back through the entryway hall, wrapping a dripping tea bag around a spoon and carefully squeezing the red liquid into the sink. She spoke without looking up at Therese.

 

“I’ve never seen anything like that from you, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol's pretty rad.
> 
> However... let's remember that Carol's no angel, even though she's the "better" one at the moment.


	15. Spill

Therese was on the subway on her way home from dropping her mother off on Monday evening, staring at a poster advertising a study at the NYU med school looking to recruit individuals aged 18-69 with “general symptoms of anxiety”. Was there any human on earth who didn’t have general symptoms of anxiety? At this point, she probably had enough to be an outlier in whatever data they were trying to collect. In large red letters at the bottom of the poster was “Compensation Upon Completion of Trial”. She wondered how much it paid.

 

Not wanting to dwell on her own anxiety, her focus shifted to a long banner ad for a mattress company floating over the doors. She hadn’t stayed over at Carol’s for a week and felt deprived of her even though she had seen her two days ago. She realized that it was rare that she went two days without Carol, since they were either sleeping next to each other, limbs wrapped up together, or giving one another polite smiles as they passed in the halls at work like acquaintances. She also hadn’t felt Carol’s naked body against her own for seven long days, which seemed like an eternity. Their frequent texts didn’t do much to assuage that yearning.

 

She was still staring at the mattress ad when she started to feel like her eyes were being assaulted with the dry, stale air in the train and realized she was staring, unblinking. She tore herself away from the ad and closed her eyes in an attempt to moisten their surface and alleviate some of the discomfort. She felt a pair of eyes on her and saw a young man with a beanie and huge headphones looking at her. He smiled, then looked down at his feet, which were out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, taking up an extra few feet in front of his seat. Someone could easily trip on them. If someone wanted to walk a straight path through the car, they’d have to jump over feet, bags, someone’s wandering dog, and the wheel of a bicycle that some guy was inexplicably rolling forward and backward in the aisle.

 

She thought about the weekend and tried to condense it into one thought, something that would sum up what she felt about it and how she would remember it, but she felt unable to gather all the disparate emotions. She felt she was making progress at the same time that she was rolling backwards but trying desperately to at least hold her place. She had seen something in Carol on Saturday that she had never seen her display so publicly before. She had used her characteristic charm, able to woo almost anyone, but it wasn’t in her usual manipulative, all-knowing way. It was a glimpse of the person underneath all of her external accoutrements that she admired so fiercely. It was also a glimpse of the person Therese was sure Carol once was _all_ the time. Before whatever had happened to her pushed that person down. She wanted to cradle and nurture that person, the one who she had fallen in love with despite how quiet and subdued it was.

 

* * *

 

Therese had to return to work the following day and face all the problems that awaited her there - Jasmine, the work she would now be behind on, trying to avoid Carol. She _told_ herself to avoid Carol at work, but she often found herself taking extra trips to the bathroom or the mailroom to have an excuse to walk by Carol’s office. She might catch a glimpse of Carol’s hands typing quickly, or even better, moving smoothly as she wrote or drew something on paper. Once in a while, she may even catch Carol bent over her desk with her hair held up loosely in a hair clip, which was a sign that she was completely lost in whatever she was doing. Rarer still was when they actually made eye contact, and Carol would look at her for just a moment or two. Carol tried to keep an expressionless face, but her eyes betrayed her. She almost always wore her glasses when she was at her desk, so Therese would see those blue eyes move up to hers all of a sudden, as if they sensed her own looking at them. It was sometimes a look of tranquil appreciation and sometimes a look of smoldering lust. It was something just for them to share, and Therese knew they both loved that feeling.

 

* * *

 

Carol got a text from Harge at 11am on Monday. He usually preferred to speak over the phone, and usually between 1 and 2, when he went out for his afternoon coffee. Their communication was less frequent lately, but Harge made sure to have some contact with her once every few weeks.

 

H: Are you still coming in on Friday?

 

Carol had promised to come in on Friday when Harge’s father would be in the office, and Carol knew Harge would probably plead with her to have dinner with them that evening, but he hadn’t yet. She hadn’t seen Harge since their dinner a few weeks ago, which was tense for a variety of reasons. They had a very specific date for that dinner every year, and Carol had pushed it off a few weeks. She wondered why they did it to themselves - it would have been a day a new life would begin, but that life had burned out and now it seemed as if they were celebrating a dream that had barely ever existed in the first place, that had never taken a single breath. It was another way to torture themselves. Aside from that, Harge had essentially chastised Carol for how she was handling her new relationship, which was disorienting and embarrassing for Carol, knowing how difficult it must have been for Harge to try to ensure that Carol didn’t hurt someone else like she had him. Whenever Carol questioned his motives, for any reason, he insisted that he just wanted Carol to be happy. And when he did something that confirmed that, it just made Carol feel even worse. She was holding onto him, playing with him as he became more and more lifeless. Sucking the blood out of him to keep some delicate part of herself alive. She needed him less and less of late, but she still felt the need to say yes to him at least some of the time when he wanted something from her. She was like a drug dealer who held out for weeks, forcing the addict to begin to find their footing without the crutch of their substance, only to see their pain and, in a misguided attempt to relieve it, dole out another dose to ensure they stayed hooked and trapped in that endless cycle.

 

C: Yes.

 

Even when she checked her phone a half hour later as she was walking out the door, Harge still hadn’t responded. It hadn’t dinged, so she didn’t know why she thought there could be a message anyway, but she still felt a bit surprised.

 

She locked her office door from the outside, and as she turned to face the hallway, Jasmine strode slowly but confidently by. She smiled at Carol, looked her up and down, and winked.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly seven when Therese finally wrestled the sheets off the guest room bed and stuffed them into the small washer in the apartment. She stood on her tiptoes and swiped her hand along the top of the stacked machines, hoping to catch the handle of the detergent. She swatted too hard and a bottle of liquid fabric softener came tumbling down and the plastic cap broke off and a long crack sliced into existence along the length of the bottle, a thick pool of clear liquid oozing out onto the floor.

 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Therese crouched down and picked up the bottle as quickly as possible, the clear liquid running all over her hand and dripping down her arm as she ran to put the leaking container in the sink. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Therese pulled at the paper towel holder with one hand, a long stream of towels rolling onto the floor. She wrapped a few around her hand and tore off the rest with her foot. She opened the door to a tired-looking but still well put together Carol, whose eyes traveled down Therese as she took in the sight in front of her.

 

* * *

 

Carol marveled at how calm Therese’s face could remain when she seemed to embody chaos. Her tank top had ridden up along one side of her torso, the seam folded up messily, she was wearing a pair of jeans that had a few long, dark lines along the thigh where it appeared something had been dripping, and one of her hands was wrapped in towels, a trail of more fluttering behind her. Carol couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Hi.” Therese sounded exasperated, but happy to see her.

 

Carol walked in, pushing Therese gently back and closing the door behind her. She wrapped one arm around Therese’s waist to pull her in, and placed the other on the back of her head so she could press her lips against Therese’s as forcefully as she wanted to. She wasn’t going to waste any time before satisfying her craving.

 

“Are they home?” She looked around at the apartment, sensing by the stillness of the air that they were alone.

 

“No,” Therese replied, “gone until Friday.” She was trying to shake the paper towels off her hand while remaining in the embrace.

 

Carol disentangled herself from Therese and let her purse drop off her arm to the floor.

 

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day.” Carol ran her hand along Therese’s cheek lovingly, a stark contrast to her blunt words.

 

* * *

 

Therese closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. She wanted nothing more than to follow Carol to the bedroom and get lost in the feeling of Carol’s skin, tongue, and hands on her body, but she knew she would only make things worse if she kept avoiding the conversation she knew they had to have. But now Carol was turned on and determined, and she didn’t want her to feel like she was rejecting her.

 

“Come here.” Therese led Carol to the couch, which she realized was probably a mistake since Carol clearly interpreted this as a sign that Therese wanted to have sex there instead of in the bed, which often gave her a clue as to what she wanted. Carol moved towards Therese, already starting to close her eyes, when Therese laid her hand on her thigh.

 

“Wait.”

 

* * *

 

Carol saw conflict in Therese’s eyes, like she was unsure about what she wanted. She stopped and moved back from Therese.

 

“What is it baby?”

 

“Remember how I said I had to tell you things?” She seemed nervous.

 

Carol tried to calm herself, realizing that this conversation probably wasn’t leading to something that would satisfy what was burning in her at the moment.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, I just… I’ve been feeling like I haven’t told you about a lot of things.” She started folding the edge of a blanket that was draped over the back of the couch.

 

Carol just sat patiently, knowing that it was usually best to let Therese just continue when she was ready, even if Carol was eager to hear what she would say - unlike with most others, who she could wait out until the end of time.

 

“You told me you were in love once before.” Therese looked up at her, and Carol felt blindsided, not expecting to have to talk about her own past. They hadn’t talked about Holly in months, since the first time Therese asked about who Carol had loved, and it still brought a dull pain to her chest.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you know I haven’t.” She reached for Carol’s hand, looking down at it, then looked back up at Carol. “Until you.”

 

Despite the words Therese was speaking, Carol felt something ominous coming on, but couldn’t imagine what it could be. She wanted to avoid it, whatever it was.

 

“And I really don’t have much experience with all this, so I don’t really know how much you need to know, or even want to know, but I feel like I’ve misled you.”

 

Carol could feel her heart beating faster. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that Therese would have done something hurtful on purpose, and she suddenly felt like standing up and walking out the door. She forced herself to be still.

 

“ _I’ve_ never been in love, but people have been in love with me… have really cared about me, and trusted me when I told them I loved them too.”

 

Carol knew immediately what Therese was trying to say. Therese looked like she was about to cry, and it made her nervous. She tried to keep listening as Therese kept talking, but she was lost in her own head, trying to control her facial expression. She suddenly felt a familiar feeling creeping back in - the feeling that she had exposed her nerves, and any touch could set off a painful shock. The part of her brain that was screaming at her to shut down, walk away, and protect herself was trying to force its way across her and through her. But the part that had emerged since Therese came into her life, the part that cried in Therese’s arms, that tucked Therese’s hair behind her ear when it fell into her face, and that sipped a cup of coffee every 30 seconds until it was the perfect temperature for her lover - that part kept her sitting there. Therese squeezed Carol’s hand and Carol returned to the moment.

 

“And I can’t imagine how many people must have told you they loved you over the years.” Therese was looking at the wall, talking almost to herself. 

 

Carol could feel a tension in her jaw making its way up her cheeks and behind her eyes, and she couldn’t stop a few tears from sacrificing themselves to run down her face. Therese was just still staring at the wall, not having noticed Carol's silent tears. She had no idea about Carol’s parents, or anything about her childhood, or the way she had left things with Holly. She had no idea what “I love you” meant to Carol, or that it was something Carol had waited thirteen years of her life to hear for the first time. She reached out to put her finger on Therese’s cheek and turn it gently back to face her.

 

“Not many.” She had stopped crying, but she could feel Therese looking at those thin tracks left by the tears on her face. Therese’s face looked confused for a moment, then returned to its worried look. Carol leaned closer and took a deep breath, but didn’t touch Therese. She looked at the floor.

 

“Therese, I can’t… I need you to…” She was shaking her head slightly. Therese threw herself at Carol and put her hands on either side of Carol’s face, physically begging Carol to look at her.

 

“What? What do you need? I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

 

Carol was silent for several breaths.

 

“Do you love me?” Therese had said it hundreds of times in the past six months, but Carol was asking something different this time, and she knew Therese would understand what it was.

 

Therese was still holding Carol’s face, and moved in so she was only inches away.

 

“Yes. Yes.” She kissed her lightly, making just the softest contact with Carol’s lips before she pulled away and rested her forehead against Carol’s with her eyes closed. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	16. Faceless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Valar Dohaeris." -Jaqen H'ghar

Carol descended the steps to the floor below, her heels clicking quickly as they hit the shallow stairs. She walked towards the glass doors of the empty office space below and caught her reflection in them. She noticed that her blouse was slightly unevenly tucked into her skirt, and there was a piece of hair pulled out of the neat bun at the base of her neck. There was a long horizontal strip of opaque white on the door from her forehead to just below her collarbone that the logo on the door blocked so that she couldn’t see her face. She smoothed her hair down and tucked the left side of her blouse in, straightening her skirt. She spent just another moment looking at herself before she opened the door with her keycard. The downstairs space was still being finished. There were desks and tables arranged neatly but still soulless, with no one occupying them, no one filling them with their assorted debris of daily life. Their tops were not yet burdened with photos of babies and pets and stacks of meaningless paperwork. The shades were all drawn except three in the center of the wall farthest from the door, allowing in just enough light for Carol to see in front of her. She turned into the dark copy room and felt around for the light switch.

 

She had come down here for the first time last week when she had to make a copy of a two-hundred page manual, not wanting to occupy the main copier for so long. She pressed her finger against the green button to copy, admiring that it still had texture, the logo on it still unblurred - a virgin button that had yet to be worn down by an endless line of fingers rushing to get something duplicated that probably didn’t need to exist in the first place. She leaned back against the counter, looking around at the room, unstocked save for the few packs of printer paper she had brought down with her. It was empty, clean, and untouched, still able to transform into anything. Besides, the copy room upstairs had become a place she avoided, hating the way the papers were thrown carelessly in the open mailboxes and how office supplies littered the counters. It was dirty and used, noisy with its loud paper shredder and the table cutter that was always slicing away at some unsuspecting white paper. Violent sounds of destruction.

 

She startled when her phone rang. She picked it up off the counter and saw Johnson’s name.

 

“Hi Todd.”

 

“Carol, I thought you were in the office today.”

 

“I am, I just stepped away for a moment. I’ll be right up.”

 

* * *

 

The door to Johnson’s office was cracked open, and she knocked lightly as she pushed inside. Johnson was leaning back in his chair, typing something on his phone. When he saw her, her tossed it on the desk.

 

Carol began to sit in one of the chairs opposite Johnson, but he stopped her.

 

“Let’s sit over here.” He got up and moved toward the corner of his office that contained three upholstered chairs set around a glass table with a vase of fuschia roses in the center. It was an odd sight, something completely opposite from what she thought Johnson may want in his office.

 

He crossed his legs and smiled at her.

 

“How are you?”

 

Carol met his eye, and gave him a look to let him know that she already knew he wanted to discuss something, and he should feel free to skip this part. He understood and let his smile fade just a tad.

 

“We haven’t talked about what you really want here.” He picked up a small foam ball and started squeezing it. She thought immediately of how she never used fidget toys in a business setting, as it conveyed uncertainty or flexibility that she may or may not want to employ depending on the situation.

 

“I’m content with where we are. I think the work is coming along well with Lancome and I’m happy to have the flexibility in my schedule for side projects.” She looked at him seriously, hoping to let him know without having to speak it aloud that she wasn’t interested in moving up at the moment, which she realized may be difficult for him to believe. But with her life in such a state of uncertainty, she had reveled in having the freedom to pass work responsibilities and decisions up the ladder if she was overwhelmed or wanted to spend more time at home, especially nights and weekends. She had done her best to minimize one-on-one client dinners, as well, which Johnson had probably picked up on.

 

He leaned forward in his chair.

 

“And do you feel adequately supported by the team?” He was talking about the designers and the copywriters. His face told Carol he was asking her something other than what he said.

 

“Yes. It’s fine.” She looked him in the eye. “Well-controlled.”

 

He waited for a moment before speaking again.

 

“Carol, listen to me. You and I both know that I’m no stranger to this. I hope we’ve come to a point in our relationship where have the understanding between us that we can be… discreet. You’ve been very gracious in helping me and I plan to do the same for you. I just ask that you continue to keep it under control. And watch closely. They’re easy to underestimate.”

 

She gave him a small smile.

 

“Todd, I’ve got it under control.”

 

He laughed.

 

“I’m sure you do.” He got up to walk over to the window, looking out at the view, which he did when he had finished the serious part of whatever conversation he was having and was ready to launch into his usual easygoing banter.

 

“Those young creative types. God knows, I’ve noticed they seem to get more and more attractive as the years go on. Or am I just getting older and more feeble?” He laughed at himself. “To be honest, I’ve become less and less interested as time goes on. Is it possible for a man to finally be growing up at fifty years old?” Carol was silent so he turned around. “I know how you are Carol. And I love you all the more for it.”

 

She was looking at the wall, but finally met his eye and smiled. As he turned back to the window, she let her eyes roam across the wall of photos and accolades. A diploma, a photo of a boat, a dog with tall, upright ears, and finally, a photo of two young girls, both with long chestnut brown hair and delicate, feminine features. The older of the two was smiling, but less widely and less innocently than the other. Her blue eyes stared at Carol, her mischievous smile taunting her, as if telling her she knew who she really was, and she would never escape it.

 

* * *

 

Carol heard the door knock right on time. Therese had told her she would be over by eight. She opened the door and saw Therese standing there, holding her makeup bag in her left hand and a cardigan sweater in the right, which caught her eye for an extra moment. Carol immediately grabbed the front of Therese’s shirt and pulled her into the entryway. Carol lifted her foot and kicked the door shut behind Therese as she continued to pull her towards the living room, Carol walking backwards and keeping her eyes on Therese. Carol gave her a lascivious smile, then grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around, walking them forward until Therese’s back hit the wall of the living room. She bent her knees so that she could move her face to hover over Therese’s neck, breathing on her lightly as her lips traveled up to the soft spot behind Therese’s ear, giving it a quick lick at the same moment she placed one hand lightly on Therese’s breast and moved her body forward so that her hips hit Therese’s and pushed her into the wall.

 

Carol looked into Therese’s eyes, no longer seeing the innocent girl she thought she had been dating over the past six months, instead seeing a woman - one with her own past and history, one who had kissed and touched other women, just like she had. But, unlike her, who had told others she loved them when she didn't. Carol was suddenly overtaken by a frenzied need to take Therese, possess her. She pulled at her shirt desperately, ripping it up over Therese’s head and immediately descending to her breasts and bite one of her nipples through her bra. Therese jumped a little, but quickly placed her hands in Carol’s hair pulling that piece that Carol had smoothed down earlier - along with many others - out of the smooth expanse that led to the knot in the back. She pulled Carol into her, urging her to continue. When Carol ripped herself away, she noticed that her lipstick had left a blurry, messy outline of her lips on Therese’s bra. Carol looked at it for a moment, saw Therese look down to see it, then breathed out.

 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Carol said it fiercely, as an aside.

 

“I want to keep it.”

 

Carol looked into Therese’s eyes, seeing the mischievous glint and wanting to shock her, to outdo whatever hold Therese thought she had over her. She moved her fingers so that she was gripping the edges of the bra that met between Therese’s breasts, then moved violently in one forceful motion, ripping a jagged, uneven tear into one of the thin lace bra cups. Therese didn’t react for a moment, but the small smile disappeared from her lips as she looked down to see the lacy fabric hanging pathetically off her. She looked back up at Carol, grabbing her to kiss her hungrily. Carol spun Therese around and pushed her so her cheek was against the wall. Therese was breathing heavily now, and Carol knew they were at the point where she could have Therese now, if she wanted her.

 

She pushed herself into Therese again, letting her right hand slide down along her behind until it reached the hem of her dress, then ran her fingertips back and forth up both of Therese’s inner thighs, one and then the other. Therese pushed back into her impatiently, and Carol gave in just a little. She slipped inside Therese’s underwear from the side without pulling them down, running one fingertip ever so lightly along Therese’s slit, touching her so gently that she knew Therese would barely be able to feel it, but enough to leave her desperate for more. She would run her finger up and graze her clit only once every three or four strokes. Therese turned her head and bit into the arm Carol had against the wall to support herself, silently urging her on. She made a noise of frustration, and when Carol didn’t give in, Therese just pushed herself back even more, making Carol have to place a foot out behind her to steady herself. Carol responded to the push by grabbing Therese’s wrists and pinning them to the wall at the sides of her hips. She wasn’t going to be overcome.

 

“You want it that bad?”

 

Therese didn’t respond, Carol just saw her nodding slightly, her brown hair displaced by the movement of her head. Carol grabbed a fistful of it.

 

“Beg me.”

 

She heard Therese let out a breath so heavy that a little noise traveled out with it. Therese moved so quickly that Carol couldn’t stop her. She pushed Carol backwards off of her and turned around so they were face-to face.

 

“I want it.” Therese looked Carol in the eye defiantly, their rebellion incongruous with the tone of the words she spoke. “ _Please._ ”

 

Carol grabbed Therese and moved her towards the couch, her front to Therese's back, pushing Therese forward until her knees hit the side of the couch. She placed one hand on Therese’s lower back and quickly and firmly slid it towards her neck, bending Therese of the arm of the couch roughly as she went.

 

As she raked her fingernails under Therese’s hair against her scalp, about to grab a handful of it, she stopped. She had been moving frantically, and she suddenly felt an unsettling familiarity setting in, sneaking in like a pointed plume of black smoke, but as it made its way between her and Therese, it diffused and obscured the view of her lover. Her brilliant brown hair became cloudy and nondescript, the back muscles Carol had run her hands over so many times were blurred and indistinct. She could tell the hair was healthy, the back smooth and supple, the girl in front of her young and nubile. But who was this girl? And who was _she_ , herself? Where did this trepidation and panic come from?

 

She released her hand from Therese’s hair and backed away from the couch. Therese began to turn.

 

“What happened? Where did you go?”

 

Carol ran her fingers against her own lips, trying to gather her thoughts, to feel her own touch to bring her back to her body, the present moment. She breathed in, trying to ease some of the congestion between her legs, needing some clarity to understand what she was feeling and why. As she touched her own face, she thought of the woman she had seen in reflection earlier in the door of the office. The woman with no face with hair out of place and outfit crooked, who had stood in that empty office and had looked at all those empty desks vacant and desperate for something to start anew. New wasn’t always going to be smooth, or even bearable. There was a constant push-pull, back-and-forth, a woman tenuously balanced on a wheel that was swayed by the weather, the surroundings, the people who might come along and feel like manipulating it.

 

She came back to the moment and saw Therese turned to face her. She was studying her, waiting for Carol to say something.

 

“Therese.”

 

“Yes. Babe. I’m here. What is it?”

 

Carol reached down and ran her hand along Therese’s cheek, willing her skin to transmit the essence of what she was touching back into her brain and her heart so she could remember. She wanted to remember where she was and the person she had become - or perhaps, the person she had always been, but had pushed away for so long. Therese was looking at her, her green eyes concerned but calm and confident. She had assured Carol she truly loved her, and Carol believed it - but these moments when things were in flux, where anything could happen - she would have to decide to believe that and to trust that again and again.

 

Therese was still waiting as Carol stared at her.

 

“Carol.”

 

Carol’s eyes focused on her again. When Therese spoke again, it was quiet but firm.

 

“Fuck me. It’s okay. I want you to.”

 

Carol recovered quickly from her pensive moment, the fire within her reignited instantly at Therese’s words.

 

Carol leaned back down and placed gentle kisses along Therese’s spine as she ran her hand back between Therese’s legs from behind, running her middle and ring fingers from her clit down to her opening, letting them dip into her for just a moment to tease her and give her fingers something to grace and caress her clit with. When Carol finally started pushing her fingers to her entrance, Therese gasped.

 

“Oh God, Carol. Please.”

 

Carol leaned down to kiss Therese’s neck before whispering in her ear, wanting her to know how much pleasure she felt just from touching Therese.

 

“I’m so fucking wet for you, baby.”

 

Therese moaned upon hearing the words and at the same moment, Carol pushed into her as far as she could go, wrapping her arm around Therese’s body to rest it on her breast, grasping it to pull Therese backward for leverage as she thrust in and out of her. When Carol began to move her hand away from her breast, intending to move it to Therese's clit, Therese grabbed it.

 

“No. Hold me like this.”

 

Carol remained wrapped around her, her chest pressed against Therese’s back, both of them moving together as Carol tried to move Therese’s hair back off her face with her teeth so she could kiss her jaw.

 

Therese moved her hand down to her own clit and rested it there, letting Carol’s thrusts move her against her own fingers. Carol was struggling to remain composed, feeling like her own wetness was streaming out of her, her underwear clinging to her uncomfortably. She desperately wanted to touch herself, but both hands were occupied so her only option to find some contact was to push herself into Therese, trying to rub herself against her but finding it difficult to keep her thrusts even and smooth from that angle.

 

Therese started to let out small noises with each breath, and Carol matched them, both having a wordless conversation in moans and gasps.

 

“Faster.” Therese could barely choke out the word.

 

Carol abandoned her own search for friction and positioned her hand to allow her the best access to push into Therese faster and harder, her fingers now so soaked inside Therese that Carol used the opportunity on her next thrust in to add a third finger. When she did, feeling the textured walls embracing her fingers, Therese let out a prolonged noise that halted suddenly as she held her breath, stilling and pressing herself down onto her own fingers. Carol closed her eyes and laid her cheek against Therese’s back, just listening to the vibration created in her chest by her moans and letting the squeezing around her fingers and the twitches of Therese’s body flow through her.

 

Carol didn’t move until Therese stopped her periodic, fading spasms. She pulled Therese’s cheek toward her and kissed it, letting her lips linger there for a long moment before releasing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think, friends. :)


	17. Rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with a flashback, then back to the present.

_June 2003, Osterville, Massachusetts_

 

A few long, dark strands from Holly’s ponytail were clinging to her glimmering chest, the hot afternoon sun bringing out the usually invisible red tones in her dark brown hair. She stood with her hands on her hips, eyes closed, face pointed skyward as she breathed in the ocean air. She was standing on the last rock of the jetty, one foot planted flat and the other balanced on her toe confidently despite the fact that she stood ten feet above the crashing water with only a smattering of smaller, jagged rocks between her and its surface. Carol sat a few rocks away, watching her girlfriend breathing deeply, recovering from their run along the quiet residential streets that hugged the coastline. Holly looked so carefree and fearless standing on that precarious edge, showing no signs of the terrifying instability one feels when they close their eyes and look up while trying to balance. Carol could feel it just watching her. She tore her eyes from Holly and looked down at the surface of the rock beneath her. Sweat dripped from inside her knees down her calves, and she let it fall, her eyes glued to the random pattern of the darker gray that snaked its way through the light, airy tan color of the majority of the rock that held her up.

 

She was running out of money, having spent most of her meager savings on renting the little one-room cottage she and Holly had escaped to for the two weeks since graduation. She had no idea how she imagined this could be sustainable, but reality had played no part in her decision to escape her parents’ house after the run in with her mother. They had spent most of their time either exploring the beaches of nearby towns, poring through all the small shops full of high-end clothing Carol could no longer afford without the support of her parents, or making love in the small, rickety old bed in the un-air-conditioned cottage.

 

They were in suspended movement, hurtling through the air hand-in-hand, with nothing stopping them but nothing supporting them. They talked about the future and what they would be doing in one year, five years, even twenty years time, Holly working on her fifth novel and Carol sketching in her pajamas, as she liked to do, on some patio of a beachside house they would own together. The image had seemed inevitable when they first discussed it early that spring, but the abrupt realization of time passing that comes with graduation as well as her parents’ reaction to her relationship with Holly had set her doubts rolling out of the recesses of her brain, out through her skin, and into the air around her. She wondered if Holly could sense it, but Holly had said nothing of it, and made no reference to a future other than the one they had dreamed up together.

 

“You look so serious.” Holly laughed, jumping from rock to rock until she stood on Carol’s, crouching down to get to face-level. Carol dragged her eyes up to meet Holly’s, their deep, dark blue only made more intense by the slightly lighter blue expanse beyond her. Carol could jump into them, into that great expanse, and let it carry her out into that great unknown, with no anchor and no way to get back to shore. She _could_. She was pulled from the thought as Holly leaned forward to lick a bit of sweat from Carol’s collarbone.

 

“Jesus!” Carol laughed. She could see the dare in Holly’s eyes. “You’re insatiable.”

 

Holly gave her a look of exaggerated surprise.

 

“ _I_ _’m_ insatiable? I can barely walk after these two weeks.” She finally sat all the way down, stretching her legs out to either side so that they framed Carol’s entire sitting figure.

 

Carol leaned over to kiss her softly, then sat back to study her. She _had_ been insatiable, wanting to soak up every bit of Holly she could while they existed in this precarious bubble that they were both pretending could never be popped. Sex was always one of Carol’s favorite activities, but she had become even more driven over the past few weeks, constantly craving the pleasure of such a profound connection and the "I need you"s and "I love you"s that always accompanied it. She consumed it constantly, voraciously, as if she could never get enough.

 

When Holly lowered her back to the rock so that she was laying completely down, Carol looked away towards the ocean and let some words she had been holding back fall out.

 

“What are we going to do about money? About trying to do all of this on our own?”

 

* * *

 

Therese was standing in the back kitchen, using a wet paper towel to sweep the coffee grounds off the counter and into her hand. She had grown tired of accidentally resting her hand on the counter and picking it up to find it covered in grounds, their dark extract staining her hands. One day it occurred to her that others were probably experiencing the same thing. Why did they do this to one another? Therese knew she was contributing to the mess every time she bumped her hand on the side of the coffeemaker or accidentally overfilled the scoop, yet she always blamed her other faceless back kitchen misanthropes for the mess. As soon as she turned to walk over to the trash can, she jumped as she saw Jasmine standing in the doorway. A few grounds fell out of her hand and onto the floor, now only spreading the mess further out of Therese’s control.

 

“Oh shit, sorry.” Jasmine laughed softly. “Here, let me clean that up.” She moved to grab another paper towel, but Therese stopped her.

 

“No don’t worry about it. Seriously.” Therese turned to stand in front of the coffeemaker again, watching the brown liquid drip excruciatingly slowly into its glass carafe, just wishing it would hurry up so she could escape the tiny room and the perfumed predator that hovered over her.

 

Jasmine leaned against the counter opposite Therese, flipping through her phone, and Therese was relieved by the silence. She glanced down and behind her, noticing that Jasmine was wearing a pair of black dress slacks today, with a solid, opaque black blouse. It was remarkable because she wore not a single trace of color. Therese looked down to see black pumps. Even her earrings were plain, a pair of white gold studs that looked like small tight knots, the metal curved and woven as effortlessly as if it were as pliable as yarn. They had no discernible pattern and were slightly different from one another. They looked handmade. Jasmine must have felt Therese looking at her, because she slowly and smoothly made eye contact with Therese and smiled. Her beautiful smile widened, making her brown eyes narrow slightly. Therese wanted to look away, but didn’t want Jasmine to think she had been looking at her shyly in admiration and thus needing to look away bashfully. As Therese stared, Jasmine’s smile lessened.

 

Therese was amazed at her own ability to stay calm around Jasmine, her indescribable outrage upon first hearing about her blackmail of Carol having waned to a dull but constant anger. Before, Therese would have seethed and considered quitting altogether, but watching Carol’s evenness and ruthlessness in business made her realize that she would have to fight for her own career, her own success, and letting Jasmine run her off would ultimately only hurt her alone. Jasmine’s face went dead for a moment, as if it were a self-regulated machine resetting and switching to another mode. This next mode was one of concern. Her brow was slightly furrowed when she opened her mouth to speak.

 

“Look, Therese, I’ve been debating - ”

 

The coffee machine sputtered loudly and messily, signaling the end of its brewing time. Therese felt a tiny droplet of hot coffee hit her arm, a pinpoint burn that she almost enjoyed. Neither of them turned, so Jasmine continued.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this, and I thought about not saying anything to you, but I don’t think it would be right to keep it from you.”

 

Therese made no movement whatsoever.

 

“It’s about Carol.”

 

The even beating of Therese’s heart faltered, but she did her best to control her facial expression.

 

“She has kind of a… reputation. And I’m not saying there is anything going on between you, but if there is… I just want you to know that… that you might want to be careful.”

 

Therese took a moment to decide what to say next. She didn’t want to admit to anything, but she didn’t want to play completely dumb either - she doubted that Jasmine was the only one who had noticed the dynamic between her and Carol, and she knew deep down that she had been a fool to believe no one knew all this time. She knew Carol knew it, too. Therese decided to say as little as possible while still continuing the conversation.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Jasmine shifted on her feet, her heels making three sharp clicks that made Therese want to kick them out from under her.

 

“She’s had her share of workplace… dalliances. And I’d hate to see you become the next one who leaves. Or gets pushed out. Most of them don’t end up staying.”

 

Therese couldn’t help herself from continuing to question her.

 

“How do you know this?”

 

“It’s kind of obvious. People think they’re good at keeping secrets, but most of them always miss something and let it slip in one way or another.” She paused and took a breath. “And... remember when you started here and I was telling you about how she looks at me?”

 

Therese nodded. She wanted to strangle her, or rip those dizzying knots out of her ears and stab her with them.

 

“Well a few months ago, she finally made a move. I think it was before whatever’s going on between you and her…” She trailed off, hesitating as if she expected Therese to say something. “But I said no, of course. I didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

 

Therese’s brain was set in motion instantly. _A few months ago?_ They’d been dating for well over six months. Jasmine was clearly full of shit, and Therese could feel her dull anger disappearing, quickly being replaced by a livid hatred. She tried to figure out what Jasmine was after - did she want to break them up? To get Therese fired? To get Carol fired? To get Carol into bed? She remembered that Jasmine had told her when she had first started that she would have gladly slept with Carol if given the chance - why would she have said no if Carol had made a move? She had no doubt that Jasmine’s assertion that she didn’t want to get in the middle of them was complete fiction. Therese was amazed, almost impressed by how well Jasmine sold her story, careful and deliberate in choosing her words. But she was lying. She had to be. Therese could feel a tiny wave of nausea roll through her, but she took a deep breath, trying to force it down. No. No, she had to be lying. Therese couldn’t stand to look at her anymore and turned to leave.

 

“Thanks.”

 

She remembered her coffee, grabbing a bright red mug out of the cabinet and pouring the coffee so quickly and violently into it that it splashed onto the counter. She walked out, wincing at the bitter taste of the strong, milkless coffee.

 

* * *

 

Carol heard a knock on her office door, which she had closed in haste a few minutes before when she picked up her phone to hear the voice of Neal Regan, the VP at one of the firms her and Harge had competed with previously. He was asking her about her plans for the future and whether she was looking for a new position. Carol had heard from recruiters periodically since leaving the firm, but it was rare to hear from an executive directly unless they knew she was already serious about moving - but Neal must have heard by now that she was already working for Johnson, so why was he calling? Regardless, she spoke with him briefly, of course not revealing that she was entirely content where she was - it was never smart to close doors that may need to be walked - or run - through at any moment.

 

She had forgotten to open the door again, so the knock startled her. She pulled her hair out of its clip and took her glasses off quickly as the visitor entered. It was Johnson.

 

“Carol.”

 

He walked in, closed the door behind him, and stood in front of Carol’s desk with his hands in his pockets. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to sit, Carol stood up. She did not like to remain seated in a business setting when she was conversing with someone - especially a man - who was standing.

 

He didn’t wait for her to answer before speaking.

 

“I have a guy from Nova coming into town tomorrow. I need you.” He looked at her intently.

 

“Todd, I can’t -”

 

He interrupted her.

 

“Carol.”

 

She looked up at him, knowing from the look in his eye that she was going to go regardless of what she said, so she may as well save her breath. Given everything going on, she was hardly in a position to argue with him.

 

“All right.” She moved her notebook from her desktop calendar to look at what she had scheduled tomorrow. She was probably the only person on the planet who still kept a physical calendar in addition to her electronic version. “You know I’m not caught up on the account, so I’ll need someone to brief me tomorrow.” When he didn’t answer, Carol looked up at him again, her finger still resting on her calendar.

 

“You already know everything you’ll need to know. It’s almost tied up. Work has been pitched.” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, and she understood what tomorrow night would be about. She pressed her lips together and looked back down at her desk. When she looked up again, Johnson was still looking at her. They kept eye contact for a good ten seconds, having a silent conversation that Carol knew would end with her acquiescing. She finally looked away again.

 

“Just get me the time and place by the end of the day.” She sat again and opened her notebook, making it clear that she wanted Johnson to leave. She froze for a moment, then spoke again softly. “Please.”


	18. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorta angsty, but you know I'm not going to apologize for it.

“What else did she say exactly?” Carol had abandoned her reclined position on the upholstered chair in the corner of the living room, and was now standing between the coffee table and the fireplace, facing Therese, who was sitting on the couch. Carol sounded fairly calm, taking a sip of her drink casually, but her face expressed obvious concern and intensity. Her chest heaved once, propelling her next frustrated words.

 

“Christ, why is it always so hot in here?” As soon as she put her drink down on the mantel, she freed the two small buttons that held the high collar of her blouse tied around her neck like a beautiful satin noose, allowing her to easily slip the shirt over her head. Carol was always taking her clothes off, and Therese wondered why Carol had started wearing those thin, tight camisoles under her blouses, unlike when she first met her. Therese had loved the sheer blouses that allowed a glimpse of the outline of Carol’s bra and the clear distinction between the bra and her bare skin underneath, but she rarely saw it anymore. Carol had made so many small, seemingly meaningless changes lately, whether it was in her clothes, the color she chose to have her nails painted, or even the way she arranged Therese’s clothes that she left in her apartment neatly on hangers in her own closet, having cleared a space for Therese’s shabby pullovers next to her exquisitely pressed slacks and skirts. Despite how small these changes were, Therese noticed them, and usually with a bit of fear. No one stayed the same. No one _could_ stay the same, stay in the same place indefinitely, or perhaps even stay bound to the same promises. She certainly hadn’t held herself to any promises in the past - not even the ones she had made to herself, nevermind to those around her. Why try to hold on to what was fleeting? Why try to hold on to what would inevitably have to end and leave and fade into memory?

 

Carol picked up her drink again but didn’t lift it to her mouth, instead just letting her hand mold around it like she just need something to hold onto. She’d barely drank any of it.

 

“She was saying I should be careful with you. She definitely implied you aren’t trustworthy. And that you’ve had a lot of office _dalliances_.” Therese lifted her feet off the floor and tucked them under her as she finished her drink, looking at the bottom of the glass and then tipping it back again to get the the last possible drops that would give up their hold on the known safety of the vessel that contained them. When she looked up, she saw Carol walking towards her quickly, then sitting on the edge of the coffee table just in front of Therese. She took the glass from Therese’s hand and didn’t even turn to look as she set it on the table behind her, out of sight. She laid her hands on Therese’s thighs and leaned in closer to her.

 

“You know that’s not true, right?” Despite how she phrased the question, she was looking at Therese as if she truly didn’t know what Therese would say. “I’ve never slept with anyone at the office.”

 

Therese looked into her eyes, looking for any hint of the manipulation or dishonesty she had seen Carol employ occasionally at work, but found no trace of it, confirming what she had thought she was certain of, but only now realized had been tinged with a shred of doubt since the conversation with Jasmine.

 

“I know.” Therese was nervous to continue, but she had to. She could feel her face get warm. “She also said you hit on her a few months ago.”

 

Carol’s eyes widened into a mixture of anger and total disbelief.

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

As she looked at Therese, her look of bewildered anger switched instantly to panic, as if Therese’s face reminded her of something that terrified her.

 

She slid off the coffee table and onto the floor, kneeling in front of Therese and moving her hands from Therese’s thighs up to grasp her hands.

 

“Therese. Baby.” There were tears already in Carol’s eyes, and Therese reached out to catch the first one before it fell any more than a centimeter down her cheek. She put her hands on either side of Carol’s face and held herself back from speaking, knowing she would better convey what she was thinking by looking into her eyes and hoping Carol would be able to see what she held there - a now unwavering certainty about who Carol was. She wanted that look to be powerful enough to push Carol’s tears back into her eyes by pure force alone, but instead they seemed to pour out faster as she comprehended what Therese was communicating silently.

 

Therese pulled at Carol’s elbows to encourage her to get off her knees, but as Carol moved to sit next to Therese, she held Carol by the hips, wanting her to stand tall on her own for a moment. Carol looked down at her, then took one of Therese’s hands into both of her own and kissed it, first on the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, then slowing with each one as she worked her way up her forearm. She finally sat down and pulled Therese towards her until she was leaning against Carol, nestled into her but facing away towards the window. It was getting dark, and as she watched a light flick on in a window across the street, Therese realized that the distinct outlines of the objects around them were becoming fuzzy in the blue dimness of the late evening. There was only a faint sliver of light sky, and Therese looked down at Carol’s hand that snaked around her, resting on Therese’s hip. Her light beige nail polish looked almost glowing in the strange light, and Therese wondered if Carol had noticed the darkness around them and if she was uncomfortable with it. She found Carol's hand and held on tight, trying to prevent Carol from getting up to turn the light on or move on with the night, even though she had shown no signs of moving. They were silent for minutes until Therese was startled from her long stare at their clasped hands when Carol spoke.

 

“She’s fucking done.” Her voice was terrifyingly calm, almost robotic. The power of the air behind Carol’s words created a tiny vibration on Therese’s scalp where it leaned against Carol, sending a thin chill through her.

 

* * *

 

_September 1998, Guilderland, New York_

 

Therese held the drawing up as high as she could towards her father, who was standing in the kitchen. She said nothing but smiled. It was a mess of thin black lines at right angles, with a small red circle in the middle.

 

Her father noticed her presence and stopped flipping through the pile of mail that had accumulated that her mother had arranged neatly out of the way, a constantly growing but rarely sorted pile of communications that stole space from the counter where Therese and her mother carried out the tasks of their daily life, both mundane and remarkable.

 

“What’s this?” Her father took the drawing, then crouched down to Therese’s level, studying it carefully. He waited for her explanation as if it were going to be an expert commentary on a sophisticated piece of art.

 

“It’s a Daddy Longlegs.” She used her finger to trace the black lines of the legs, as if trying to convince him of what it was.

 

“Oh I see. Why’s he red? I thought Daddy Longlegs were brown.”

 

Therese opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t think of an explanation. Her father changed the subject, letting her little eight-year-old brain ponder on the color.

 

“Oh, is this his web?” He pointed at a shiny, barely perceptible group of lines that branched out from the red center. Therese had drawn the web in white crayon, and it showed up only as waxy lines on the white paper. Most of them were invisible, except where she had pressed hard, trying to make the strands thicker and stronger. The lines were so light, fading away, almost nonexistent. The creature looked like he was floating in midair, the web a distant thought, something that couldn’t hold him in place. Therese would later remember this conversation in great detail when she had been mindlessly flipping through a pamphlet at the visitor’s center at the nearby conservation trail during a class day trip in high school. Daddy Longlegs didn’t make webs.

 

* * *

 

Therese’s father had been home for three days straight, which was rare. Whenever he was away, she was constantly asking her mother how many days were left before he would come home again, and her mother would tell her that her father’s work schedule was very unpredictable and she couldn’t tell her for sure. Therese would nag and nag, wanting to be able to count the days on her Beauty and the Beast wall calendar and color in the day he would come.

 

She was laying in bed when she heard a loud, sharp noise which she recognized as the leg of one of the kitchen chairs dragging across the floor. She realized she must have fallen asleep, because it was completely dark outside, the only light coming from the nightlight in the opposite corner of her room. She had crawled into bed while the late summer sun was still just barely behind the horizon, giving her small bedroom a dusky sunset glow. There was no trace of it now in the clear black sky. She sat up in bed and waited, but hearing nothing else, lowered her feet to the hard floor, sliding towards the door on her socks so that she made no noise. She sat just inside her bedroom door, cracking it open enough so that she could see the light slanting onto the bottom of the stairs from the kitchen below.

 

She could hear her mother whispering, but couldn’t make out the words. When her father spoke, he stayed fairly quiet, but audible enough for Therese to separate the sounds into meaningful language.

 

“What do you want me to do, Liz? You want me here, and then when I’m here you want me out. Just tell me what you want.”

 

Her mother was whispering again, this time her words clearly faster and harsher, but still indecipherable. Her father’s voice got a little louder.

 

“This _is_ the best I can do. I do care. I’m here. I don’t get it.” There was silence. “You want something I don’t have.”

 

* * *

 

Carol was standing in front of her dresser when Therese came out of the bathroom, still in her camisole and work pants. Therese walked to the bed, watching Carol reach behind her to unhook her bra without taking off the camisole, her now-tousled blonde curls falling across her face as she found the clasp. The hair obscured her face, which was tilted down, almost in profile - eyelashes splayed out from a closed eyelid, her cheeks shadowy, her red lips closed but relaxed. Therese focused on her, begging her silently to look up.

 

When she did, finally dropping the bra to the floor, she just held eye contact with Therese, then smiled slightly before looking back down to open a dresser drawer. When she finally rid herself of her work pants, standing only in the camisole and her underwear, which were a dusky rose color uncharacteristic of Carol’s usual taste, she walked over to pick up her glasses from the nightstand. When she started walking towards the door, Therese stopped her.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Carol walked over to Therese, who was sitting up against the headboard, and rubbed her forearm.

 

“I’m going to do some work. So much needs to be wrapped up tomorrow and I have that dinner, and I’m just afraid I’ll be too distracted during the day to get anything done.”

 

Therese looked down at her bare legs, trying to imagine how many people could work when they weren't wearing any bottoms. She pulled Carol closer, tilting her head to find Carol’s gaze. She lifted her hands and removed Carol’s glasses slowly, laying them on her nightstand as she sat back and waited.

 

* * *

 

Carol was relieved to be distracted from work, knowing she would be behind tomorrow but also aware that what she really needed was rest after the emotionally draining evening. And looking at Therese, she realized that she felt grateful to be needed. Carol lifted the covers on the bed to get in, and as she did Therese shimmied down the headboard until she was laying flat. She laid herself on top of Therese, finding her lips and reveling in the feeling of Therese responding with an equal and opposite reaction, both of them wanting to give something to the other while taking what they needed. When Carol started to move against her, their bodies sliding together rhythmically, Carol moved her lips to Therese’s neck and moved her hands to either side of Therese’s shoulders to hold herself up, signaling her imminent descent of Therese’s body. Therese opened her eyes and held Carol’s face to look at her.

 

“No no no. Please.” Therese was silent for a moment. “Stay.”


	19. Finishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add a black shirt under the glorious braless white blazer for the purposes of the story and character development, but please feel free to picture the outfit without the shirt underneath as you read.

As she did every time she was going to meet with a potential client, Carol was paying close attention to her clothing and makeup choices. She was leaning over the bathroom counter, her face an inch from the magnifying face mirror that was attached to the wall. As she was finishing putting her mascara on, shimmying it across her bottom lashes, she was distracted by her left eyebrow. There was one wiry light brown hair that grew on the very inner edge of her eyebrow, slightly darker than the rest and stiff enough to distinguish itself from the other soft dark blonde hairs. Every time she had her eyebrows waxed, she would look into the mirror the esthetician provided after she had finished and when asked “Do they look okay?” she would see that one hair, sigh internally, and say “Yes.” She wanted nothing more than to pluck it, but it would create a slightly uneven edge that wouldn’t match the other brow, and it would ruin the symmetry and the even, meticulously curved lines. Problem was, it was only becoming increasingly frustrating to Carol. She swore it was getting darker and more stiff with every passing day.

 

She picked up the metal lash comb, slid it through her eyelashes, and looked down at the excess black mascara left on the metal bristles. She threw it on the counter without even wiping it off, and grabbed the tweezers. She leaned in, barely looking at her brow, knowing exactly where that wayward hair was, and plucked it with violence. It created a sting more intense than she had ever remembered feeling in all the years she had been getting plucked and waxed. She saw that tiny bare spot that ruined the straight edge of the brow, and she had the ridiculous thought that someone else might actually notice it, but even if they did - even if she had to pluck off the entire eyebrow just so that one hair would be gone, the relief she felt in this moment would be worth it.

 

She walked out into the bedroom to pick a pair of earrings out of the jewelry organizer in the thin top drawer of her vanity, but found a pair of silver studs sitting unassumingly on top of the vanity, a tiny pair among the other comparatively giant items on the surface - two hairbrushes, a bottle of perfume, a wooden box that held bobby pins and hair clips. She remembered seeing those earrings on Therese a few days ago, not mentioning it but content that Therese felt she could borrow her things. As she reached to pick up the earrings, her hand jerked and one rolled and jumped into the abyss between the vanity and the wall. As she crouched to stick her hand into the dark space, she dragged not one, but two things out. There was the delicate little earring, and with it a dark gray cufflink. How the hell had that gotten there? Harge barely ever unpacked his things when he used to stay over, nevermind in Carol’s bedroom.

 

She realized that she hadn’t heard from Harge in over three weeks, since the day after she last went into the office to meet with him and his father. It had been a tense meeting, with Harge’s father being uncharacteristically short with Carol, especially after her and Harge had slipped into a conversation about the time they had attempted to make sushi at home in their first apartment. These were the memories that reminded her of the times in her marriage when she had been almost content - there was always something missing, but Harge’s friendship and their easy understanding of one another was the best nourishment she could get at the time. Carol could feel Harge’s father’s eyes on her, and when she turned to see his expression, she directed the conversation back to work.

 

Carol had a momentary desire to text Harge, to find out what he was doing, how things were going at the firm, how the search for an apartment downtown was going. But she stopped herself. She knew it would take a great amount of restraint for him to avoid contacting her for so long, and she owed it to him not to render that self-control useless. A pang of sadness hit her, followed by a wave of guilt. She fingered the cufflink with one hand, picking up the small earring in the other as she stood up. After placing the earrings back into their correct spot in the drawer, she looked at the cufflink, walked into the bathroom, and threw it in the trash.

 

* * *

 

Therese knocked on Carol’s door, looking at her watch quickly to see how much time she would have before Carol had to leave. She knew they wouldn’t have much time, but she wanted to make their plans for the next day. And on top of that, Carol always looked irresistible when she went out for work, the mixture of sexy and professional providing Therese ample material to contemplate until she saw her next.

 

The sight in front of her when Carol opened the door didn’t disappoint. Carol was wearing a tailored white pant suit, the silky material flowing carefully but effortlessly over her divine figure. The only stark contrast was the triangle of black created by some bothersome undershirt that blocked the view of what Therese really wanted to see underneath. Therese moved towards her, pausing for a moment as she looked at Carol’s precise and painstakingly applied makeup, but decided she deserved to do what she wanted to. She was the only one who was allowed to put her lips all over those perfectly glossed ones in front of her, and she was going to assert that right. She pushed herself into Carol, pulling her in with a hand on the back of her neck, crushing the carefully tousled waves and undoubtedly smearing some of that lip color outside the confines of her lips as she massaged them with her own. She knew she would create an uneven collage of color as she slipped her tongue between those lips, ruining the consistent tone and distribution of it. When she pulled away, Carol still had her eyes closed. She opened them and smiled, then walked towards the kitchen. She made no effort to fix her hair or look into a mirror to inspect the state of her lips, instead simply filling a glass to pour some water into the small pot that contained the white lilies she kept on the counter. They didn’t need to speak constantly, having become comfortable just _living_ around one another, carrying out the necessary tasks of life without justifications.

 

“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink? We still have forty-five minutes.”

 

Carol turned, raising her eyebrows at Therese, and turned to the table that supported the massive weight of the liquor selection. Carol placed one finger on top of the bourbon bottle and looked back at Therese. Therese nodded.

 

Therese sat on the couch with her drink, watching Carol walk around picking up items to put in her purse or brush a few wayward crumbs off the counter. When she ran out of things to rearrange or put away, she came over to the couch. Before she could sit, Therese stopped her, putting her hands on Carol’s hips and turning her to face her. She leaned her head against Carol’s lower stomach, just savoring the feeling of being next to her and making contact with her body. She was like a disciple kneeling at Carol’s altar, not in supplication or penance, but in appreciation of what was hers, what opened itself for her.

 

* * *

 

When Therese finally released her, she patted the couch next to her and watched Carol sit carefully, crossing her legs then reaching her arm around Therese to pull her closer. She was comfortable here, feeling overdressed as her hand stroked Therese’s ribbed cotton sweater, but relaxed enough to close her eyes for a moment. Therese mumbled from under her.

 

“I’m thinking we should go to the Met tomorrow. I haven’t been in so long. And all we’ve been looking at together recently are perfume logo sketches.”

 

Carol smiled to herself.

 

“That sounds perfect.”

 

Therese made a contented little noise, and Carol leaned down to take in the scent of Therese’s hair, the subtle coconut of her shampoo mixed with something more complex and indescribable. She had no desire to describe it, either. There was no need to try to force it into a rational thought, knowing it was better as a shapeless, ephemeral sensory experience that bypassed her brain. She was suddenly tired, despite having slept fairly soundly the night before despite the drama with Jasmine and her and Therese’s bedtime activities. She could feel the scratchy stiffness of her eyelashes against the soft spot below her eyes, she could feel the slight crunch of her hairspray as she leaned her head on the couch, and she could feel the rough edge of her lace thong rubbing against her left hip. She wanted it all washed off, washed out, stripped off.

 

“I’m not going.” Carol spoke into Therese’s hair, her voice muffled and soft.

 

Therese sat up and turned to look at her.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not going tonight. We haven’t spent enough time together this week, and I don’t want to do anything more than I want to lay here with you right now.”

 

Therese was silent for a moment, her eyes looking at Carol skeptically, then found what she was trying to say.

 

“Can you cancel at the last minute? Isn’t Todd going to be pissed? This is so unlike you. I don’t want to hold you back from your job, babe. You love it.”

 

Carol smiled and ran her hand through Therese’s hair.

 

“You’re not holding me back. You’re pushing me forward.”

 

* * *

 

“What? Why?”

 

Johnson’s voice was forceful, but not angry. Carol expected a harsher response to her canceling the dinner, knowing that he had no qualms about being straightforward with Carol. He made no distinction between her and his male colleagues, affording her the respect of forgoing any tiptoeing around that he may do with other female colleagues. But now, he sounded more exasperated than anything. Carol kept quiet, cursing the fact that she couldn’t see his face and read what he was thinking from his body language. She decided not to answer him yet.

 

“Carol, this is important. Extremely important. Can’t you reschedule whatever has come up? He’s in town from the west coast, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

 

“No. Todd, I have to do this.” She hesitated for a moment then added, “I’m sorry.”

 

She heard a long sigh.

 

“All right. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? I wouldn’t put up with this shit if you weren’t the sharpest tool I have.”

 

“You can crucify me Monday.” Carol looked over at Therese, who was watching her carefully as she pricked her finger against the sharp corner of one of the glass coasters Carol kept on the coffee table.

 

“I might just have to do that.”

 

Carol smiled to herself and hung up.

 

* * *

 

Carol had forgotten to pull the thick Roman shades down over the windows in her bedroom, and hadn’t thought to pull even the sheer curtains across the windows before they went to sleep. Light poured in periodically, the clouds moving at an impressive speed in order to create such rapid periods of blinding sunlight and obscured moments of bright gloom as they drifted over the sun. They remained in bed, Therese still asleep at nearly ten, while Carol was already dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a light blue tank top. She was sitting up against the headboard with her laptop open, glasses pushed up into her hair like a headband, seemingly forgotten despite the fact that she was doing a task that required them.

 

Therese shifted and threw one of her arms behind her without turning, her body and face still oriented away from Carol’s side of the bed. Carol watched her small hand claw around along the bed until it caught a piece of Carol’s thigh. Carol watched her finally turn slowly, then grab one of Carol’s hands and pull it to her chest as she closed her eyes again.

 

Carol waited patiently for a few seconds until Therese finally gathered the energy to open her eyes, giving a quick glance at Carol then running her fingers through Carol’s, running her fingertips over Carol’s light gray-painted nails. She felt Therese’s finger glide back and forth along one in particular, and Therese looked up at her.

 

“Look at this huge chip.” Despite the rest of the nails still being perfectly polished and shined, Therese clearly wanted to tease her. “Your nails are a mess, babe.”


	20. Kin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy.

 

_If I get murdered in the city_

_Don’t go revenging in my name_

_One person dead from such is plenty_

_No use in getting locked away_

-The Avett Brothers

 

 

Therese was walking in a curved line along the scrolling designs in the area rug in Carol’s guest room, careful to put the toes of one foot right against the end of her other heel, creating a precarious balance that required her physical attention as she employed her mental attention with Noelle’s words. Noelle must have been walking outside, because she could periodically hear what had to be gusts of wind, their smooth wave and whistle lost in translation through the phone, arriving in Therese’s ear as abrasive static.

 

“Sorry, I’m walking out into the courtyard.” Noelle was in LA with Dylan, as she was for a few weeks every month. Therese felt as if the apartment was practically hers, and she herself only spent limited time there since she was often at Carol’s, but she enjoyed being able to retreat to her own space.

 

“Well what did your mom say?” Therese continued her meandering but prescribed walk, trying to keep Noelle on track in the conversation.

 

“She said they’re not going to give him any money. Which is obviously the right thing to do, I just…” She sighed. “It’s hard to just watch him fall apart, you know? He’s still my brother.”

 

Therese just murmured quietly.

 

“I know.”

 

The truth was, she didn’t know. Therese had no siblings, and given the fact that it had been just her and her mother for so long, she didn’t really have any experience with a family dynamic. The gap between a mother and daughter who loved one another deeply finding a way to live together and a family of four trying to navigate the tangled mess of connections that formed - or fell apart - between them over time was vast. Therese didn’t want to pretend to understand how to bridge it.

 

Therese didn’t know all the details of her brother’s issues, as Noelle seemed to largely avoid bringing him up. Her parents had paid for him to go to rehab twice, but it appeared to do no good. There were periods of months when they didn’t hear from him, then he would resurface with endless needs, his begging thinly veiled as a renewed desire to change or lift himself out of what he was so hopelessly mired in. He appeared and disappeared abruptly into and out of their lives, every time slicing open a wound that had only just begun to close again. Noelle’s parents, who had tried to rationalize his behavior with their free-spirited, hippie-inspired beliefs about “finding oneself”, seemed to have finally given in to the reality that their son was deep inside a hole that even their best efforts couldn’t lift him out of. Even their love couldn’t compete with the pull of the agonizing ecstasy that kept him in the dark.

 

Therese could tell by the pattern of Noelle’s breathing that she was starting to cry.

 

“Do you want me to come out there? Can you come home?” Therese knew she’d be of little help in offering any useful advice, and was actually terrified of facing Noelle’s huge, intimidating pain. It hit her in her weakest places, but she had always done her best to overcome her avoidance of intimacy with the select few whose pain she felt almost as her own.

 

“No, you don’t have to do that. It’s just a bad day. I need to keep working and keep my mind off this.” There was silence. “He called me six times yesterday. Telling me it’s the first time he’s ever doubted my love for him.”

 

Therese closed her eyes.

 

“You know that’s not true. It’s not your fault. Not giving him what he’s begging for is the best way to show him you love him.”

 

Therese heard something drop in the kitchen and peeked out the door. Carol was picking up a salt shaker that had fallen or been knocked off the kitchen counter and broken. There was an immaculate pile of white salt on the hardwood floor now seasoned with glass shards. Carol turned to see Therese watching her, and gave Therese a look of guilt as she mouthed an exaggerated “sorry”.

 

Therese waved her off, not annoyed at the interruption, instead startled at the reminder that she was at Carol’s, existing parallel to another human as they engaged in entirely different tasks. Her worlds were colliding again, and she was having difficulty reconciling the seriousness of her conversation with Noelle with the ridiculous image of Carol apologizing for knocking something over as if she had killed someone, scrambling on her hands and knees to wipe up the salt.

 

* * *

 

Therese was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the pepper shaker on the counter, looking lonely, having no idea where its companion had gone. It would remain alone until Carol bought another shaker - or perhaps she would replace them both with a new set. Therese swore she could see a face formed by some of the peppercorns in the clear window of the shaker.

 

Carol lifted her water glass. Beads of water were dripping endlessly off its cold surface, unable to stay high, vaporized, and light any longer, having no choice but to acquiesce, taking on their heavy liquid form in the face of such harsh conditions. As she lifted it to her mouth, took a delicate sip, and set it down, she watched Therese.

 

“You’re a good friend.”

 

Therese looked away from the pepper shaker.

 

“I guess. I really didn’t know what to say. I never know what to say. And I really don’t have any way of understanding what she must be going through.”

 

Carol looked at her seriously.

 

“That doesn’t matter. She just wants to be heard by someone who understands her. And I doubt she wants to discuss it with the rest of her family right now.”

 

Therese knew Carol was right. Noelle had made no mention of contacting her parents, almost giving Therese the impression that she was angry at them for finally doing what they should have done years ago - to stop enabling her brother’s addictions. For Noelle, facing them would mean facing a pain as big as her own, and she clearly needed to gather herself before she did that. Therese thought again about that web that formed when trying to coordinate multiple relationships at once, wondering how any family managed to do it without eventually breaking, the uneven tension created by so many knots finally giving way to entropy.

 

Therese wanted to ask, _had_ wanted to ask Carol for so long, but always lost her nerve. It seemed like the time to bring it up, though she wasn’t sure exactly why considering how heavy the conversation already was.

 

“How did your brother die?”

 

* * *

 

_January 1994, Great Falls, Virginia_

 

“...in one of his favorite spots, where the family spent many happy summers on the water…”

 

One of Carol’s uncles was delivering a eulogy that even at thirteen, Carol recognized as euphemistic and superficial. His impersonal words served their purpose, as generic descriptions were meant to in situations like these - to smooth over and cover up all the ugliness that punctuated the brief periods of contentment in her childhood. Her brother seemed easier to love, especially by their mother, but he still wasn’t exempt from their endless criticism and desire for their children to do more, be better, never congratulate themselves.

 

He was on the track their parents had laid out for him and pushed him down relentlessly, forcing him back onto that rigid line regardless of what interests tempted him to veer off, any budding passions subject to the same savage amputation by those sharp tracks if they dared to get in the way of the barreling train they had created. Only one destination was acceptable. He had unintentionally veered off those tracks one freezing night in January, that barreling halted permanently by a patch of ice.

 

Carol was young enough to be confused by how things were to progress in a situation like this, looking to her parents for direction on how to behave as they stood in the receiving line or sat silently in the first pew of the massive, cavernous church. They provided little help, little more than two perfectly coiffed statues hyper-aware of their surroundings and the threat of whatever emotion they may feel overflowing into the space beyond their skin. Carol felt alone wallowing in her puddle of grief, drowning with no one to help her stay above water or mop up some of what hemorrhaged out of her. Tears, blood, grief. She was old enough to know that she was alone.

 

* * *

 

The morning after her conversation with Therese, Carol was unusually jumpy and irritated. She had been handed a latte that she had debated on even ordering, taking it ungratefully from the hand of whichever nameless employee held it out like a morning prayer offering and sped out the door. She slowed slightly to take the first sip, and the liquid scalded her tongue, immediately creating a dead spot of bristly pain. She wouldn’t be able to taste anything there for days, the taste buds singed into numbness. Despite her now knowing the drink was too hot, she kept sipping, not bothering to prevent her tongue from burning further. She allowed the damage to spread, willing this bizarre act of masochism to numb her to whatever was crawling torturously under her skin.

 

As soon as she sat down at her desk, she pulled her phone out and looked at her call history. She had the thought that she hadn’t been to the firm in over a month now, and they had to have had their monthly finance meeting last week. She had heard nothing from Harge or anyone else, and she checked her call log to confirm it despite the fact that she knew she would have seen it by now. She scrolled down until she found his name, highlighted in red as a missed call. She now remembered that she had been at home with Therese, finally showing her _Citizen Kane_ on that rainy Friday night. She had glanced over at her phone to see Harge’s name and sent it to voicemail. Harge hadn’t left one.

 

As she stared at it now, she wished she had picked up. The thought had simply never crossed her mind that he wouldn’t call back - if not the next day, then at least that week. Or that month. Now here she was, staring at his name and recognizing what was rising in her as anger. What right did he have to ignore her, to neglect to invite her to the meeting, to not update her on what was happening at the firm? Her admiration of his resolve last week as she ran her fingers over his wayward cufflink had evaporated. Her anger led her to click her screen to black and throw the phone onto her desk. As she stared at it, she noticed how dirty the screen was, littered with fingerprints that were glaringly obvious in the oblique light of the morning sun. She wiped down the screen almost daily, but the fingerprints always came back, a relentless cycle. It was exhausting.

 

Her anger was loosening, its tight and unyielding threads creating tiny spaces out of which something entirely different started escaping - sadness, backed by a raging force of something she rarely felt - rejection. These layers of emotions were being peeled faster than she was accustomed to, each layer more and more unfamiliar and terrifying.

 

She picked up the phone again, staring at the call list for several seconds before averting her gaze out the window. Everything seemed to have stilled; all that was visible out the window was the face of another adjacent building, its many windows lifeless and identical, a panel of bright blue sky, and the invisible light of the sun surrounding all of it. She looked back down at her phone and pressed Harge’s name.


	21. Burst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends.
> 
> It's been a week since I last saw you, which I think is the longest I've gone without posting since I started writing here. I've been fairly busy doing the job I get paid to do, as well as thinking about what is next for these ladies.
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, I'm bored as fuck by this chapter. I hope you are less so.
> 
> Thanks to the irreplaceable Miss_K for the edits. It is difficult for me not to add an insult to that, but I'll refrain. :)

 

* * *

 

“You’ve reached Harge Aird. I’m currently unavailable. Please leave your name, number, and a brief - ”

 

Carol hung up. She looked at the screen, Harge’s name disappearing in seconds until she was left staring at her recent call list. She scrolled down to see that red missed call from Harge. Somehow, she hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wouldn’t pick up. She moved her arm to put the phone back on her desk, face-down, but stopped just before its glass face hit the surface of the desk, her arm springing back up. She texted Therese, who was no more than a two-minute walk across the office.

 

C: Hi baby.

 

T: Hi!

 

C: I miss you.

 

T: Already? You saw me walking into the office this morning.

 

C: That’s not what I mean. I was thinking you might want to stay with me tonight.

 

T: And why would I want to do that?

 

Carol knew Therese had interpreted her suggestion as the beginning of some playful flirting, but she had no drive to engage in it. She suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to walk down to the studio, drag Therese away from her desk, and pull her into an unbridled embrace. To let that coconut scent of her hair enter and fill her, to place a gentle kiss on the soft spot between the end of her jaw and her earlobe. To do the things she did when she and Therese were alone in her apartment making dinner, sitting on the couch, or nestled against one another in the bed. Carol looked around her office, her gaze lingering on the plant across the room, half in the dark recess of the corner and half exposed to the morning sun. It needed to be pruned, but Carol rarely paid any attention to it. There were a pair of scissors in the drawer. She could just take them out, walk over to it, and cut the greedy, dead limbs that were suffocating the healthier, lush green vines that were begging to breathe and thrive, but she turned back to her phone.

 

C: Because it would make your girlfriend happy to hold you and soak you in.

 

There was a pause.

 

T: Text me when you’re leaving. I’ll come up as soon as I come home. I wouldn’t miss it.

 

Carol put the phone down, face-up this time, and got to work.

 

* * *

 

Cory was tapping a pen against the table, watching Therese and April flip carefully through his notebook while Jasmine leaned back in her chair, her thumbs dancing frantically on her phone. Her face was expressionless, and she sat so perfectly still that her thumbs looked as if they were separate from her body, the only outlet of what Therese assumed must be the constant spinning machinations of her calculating mind.

 

April looked up at Cory.

 

“You’re going to have to stop that right now.”

 

Cory pulled the pen away from the table and started twirling it between his fingers instead. It was obvious from looking at him that he was full of fidgety energy, as he always was. His feet, his hands, his pencil, even his notebook and desk were always on the brink of exploding, their disorganized contents about to finally break free of their confines. April leaned back against the chair with a dramatic sigh.

 

“This is a waste of time if we don’t even know what products they want in the ads. Where’s Carol?”

 

“I don’t know.” Therese kept flipping through the pages of the notebook nonchalantly.

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

She looked up at April to see her looking at her almost amusedly, waiting, as if daring her to argue. When Therese glanced over at Cory, he maintained eye contact for a moment before looking down, his pen stopped in suspension across his thumb and middle finger. Therese looked at Jasmine, who remained exactly as she had been except for her thumbs, which had stopped typing in midair.

 

Therese didn’t know whether to speak or not, and she wasn’t sure what her face was doing, but she tried to focus on straightening her mouth and eyes into a casual expression as she worked to control the nervousness that had started radiating through her. Everything - April’s eyes, Cory’s pen, Jasmine’s thumbs - they all hovered unbearably, waiting, their potential energy beginning to create an uncomfortable vibration in Therese’s ears that seemed to intensify exponentially with every passing second.

 

April spoke again, startling Therese.

 

“It’s fine. Seriously. I know you think you’re really sly, but you’re not. Neither is she.”

 

Therese still had no idea what to say. All she wanted to do was look up at Jasmine, but she was controlling the urge so far. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she looked over to see Jasmine’s brown eyes looking directly into hers. They were unruffled but intense, and Therese just stared back into them. Jasmine gave the slightest, almost imperceptible, shake of her head.

 

Realizing Therese wasn’t going to say anything, April turned back to the notebook.

 

“Look, you don’t have to admit it, but just feel free to drop the act. Or hide it better. And take every opportunity to tell Carol how much we deserve to work on the Dior project. I know she has Johnson wrapped around her finger.”

 

* * *

 

Therese made her way to the back kitchen under the guise of getting another cup of coffee and pulled out her phone.

 

T: April just straight up told me she knows about us. Apparently it’s obvious to everyone.

 

C: Jasmine?

 

T: She said it wasn’t her.

 

C: That doesn’t mean anything.

 

T: I don’t know what the fuck to do now.

 

C: Nothing. It’s fine. You have nothing to defend yourself for.

 

Therese looks at Carol’s words. Nothing to defend herself for. _Nothing?_ It seemed to her as if she was caught in the act and someone was going to descend upon her imminently and demand an explanation. She gave herself time to think on it, not knowing what to say back yet. She watched the old coffee maker shake clumsily, humming tensely until the first stream of hot liquid finally rushed out, releasing clouds of steam along with it. She took her mug and walked back to the studio, still unable to tell exactly what she was feeling. When she entered the large, open room, she stopped and looked around. She marveled at how everything had just carried on, how the crescendo of deafening noise she had felt just a few minutes ago had flattened out into the usual low din of the room. Her phone brightened again and she looked down.

C: Meet me for lunch across the street at 1.

 

* * *

 

“What are we gonna do now?” Therese watched Carol decant sparkling water out of what looked like a repurposed flower vase into both their glasses. She could see the bubbles of carbonation slipping along the surface of the water, many of them no doubt popping as they slid down the waterfall to their end.

 

“We’ll just… deal with it.” She placed the vase down and picked up a piece of bread. She seemed to be on an endless mission of tiny tasks, channeling whatever mental energy that could otherwise have been used to elaborate on her words or force her eyes to meet Therese’s instead being focused on the movement of her hands. As she began spreading butter smoothly and carefully onto a piece of bread, Therese wondered if she was supposed to be able to read Carol’s mind.

 

“How? Aren’t you worried?”

 

Carol looked up, her hand frozen. She looked calm and unaffected, like she had no concerns whatsoever and that she would be able to explain her way out of any challenges that could come their way. Carol’s small smile released itself and her eyes widened slightly. She put the knife down carefully, watching it until it was safely against the tablecloth. She put her forearm on the table and extended her hand, palm face-up.

 

Therese looked down at it, then back up at Carol as she laid her hand on top of hers.

 

“It’ll be fine. And if it’s true that everyone knows already, we may not have any issue.”

 

Therese was annoyed that Carol was being so blasé about it - hadn’t they gone to all this trouble to keep the relationship private? And now, having found out that at least some of their colleagues thought their relationship was not only apparent but obvious, Carol acted as if there couldn’t possibly be any negative consequences. There was no crashing break of the wave that had hung over them and finally descended. Or perhaps Carol was just at peace with being drenched. Like she was used to a stormy sea and its temperamental outbursts.

 

* * *

 

Carol walked back to her office after lunch, letting her eyes take in her surroundings with curiosity. She had just walked up to the glass doors in the front of the office with Therese’s hand in hers, giving Therese a loving smile that seemed to incite surprise in Therese’s nervous green eyes. After they walked through the doors, Carol held onto her hand until their separation to walk in opposite directions finally forced them to break contact. The receptionist didn’t appear to notice, looking down at her desk as she talked robotically on the phone.

 

Before she reached her office door, Carol looked up to see Johnson walking towards her. He was at the other end of the hallway, but she could tell by his expression that he was going to stop her. She didn’t pause, instead pulling out the key to unlock the door without taking her eyes off the doorknob, waiting to hear the click of the bolt releasing. Johnson was standing next to her, waiting for her to open the door, both of them knowing he was going inside with her.

 

She put her purse down carefully on the ledge of the window as she heard Johnson sit on one of the chairs opposite her desk. He wasted no time.

 

“I need you to have that dinner on Saturday.”

 

Carol looked into his eyes, feeling something in her snap quietly.

 

“No.” She looked down at the desk momentarily, but forced herself to look back up to meet his eyes. He looked unsurprised.

 

“Carol.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Please. Just trust me.” He seemed on the brink of saying something that would clearly change the course of the conversation. “I think you owe me that.”

 

He stared at her intently, the tiniest hint of anger apparent in the corners of his usually smiling mouth. As soon as she saw them, she knew what he was referencing. She’d never had the relationship and mutual understanding that she had had with him with any other colleague, neither needing to say much in order to communicate even the most consequential messages. She looked around the room and caught her own reflection in the dark screen of her monitor, the glare of the window light obscuring her mouth and nose so that she saw only her own penetrating eyes looking back at her.

 

* * *

 

Carol stood and picked up Therese’s plate, having to gather Therese’s scattered silverware while holding her own plate, the fork and knife neatly laid across it and balancing on its upturned edges. As she lifted the plate from in front of Therese, her own knife and fork clanged down from their precarious balance, giving Carol a little jump. Therese looked up from her glass and smiled at Carol’s reaction. She brought the dirty plates to the kitchen counter and abandoned them, ignoring what Therese knew was usually an overwhelming desire to rinse them and put them into the dishwasher immediately. She walked towards the living room quickly, grabbing Therese’s hand as she walked by the table and dragging her along, never letting go of her hand, even as they sat on the couch and oriented their bodies toward one another. Carol had to contort her wrist to keep contact with Therese’s hand, but she barely seemed to notice. She used her other hand to tuck Therese’s hair behind her ear.

 

“I know you’re worried. I promise you that it will be fine. And even if it isn’t, I can work anywhere. You won’t lose your job, baby.”

 

Therese responded immediately.

 

“I’m not worried about my job.”

 

Carol waited for her to speak again.

 

“You never seem surprised or thrown off. Aren’t you afraid of being caught?” Therese wanted Carol to assuage whatever fear she had that she herself couldn’t even identify exactly.

 

Carol’s expression changed slowly from one of confident contentment to one of concerned assessment. She looked down at their clasped hands and tightened her grip.

 

“There’s nothing left for me to be caught doing. I’m open.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zzzz


	22. Epithet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call me by your name.
> 
> In the spirit of transparency, I feel I should tell you all that we are approaching the end of this story. It won't happen immediately, but I would guess another four chapters or so. Don't hold me to that, though. I'll try to give another warning before it ends. :)
> 
> Miss_K read this thing and made it a little more presentable. Thanks, asshole.

* * *

Carol was on the subway, which she hated, standing in the middle of the train with her hand gripping one of the undoubtedly filthy handles hanging like nooses from the metal bar above. She had to spread her legs to remain steady on her heels given the jerky, lurching movements of the train. Her center of gravity kept shifting, sending momentary shocks of panic through her each time the train threatened to best her and her attempted stability.

 

She glanced to her left to ensure that the owner of the shoulder rubbing hers would be able to withstand her crashing into them if she were to lose her precarious fight with relative motion. It was a tall man of about forty, with short, neat brown hair and a five o'clock shadow. His sharp, square jaw accentuated his well-defined features. As an artist, she recognized him as a nearly perfect specimen - something out of an art history book. He must have felt her studying him, and turned to glance at her. He gave her just the quickest smile, then turned back toward the side of the train. She was used to being watched, assessed, and inevitably, desired, but in this moment she was taking great pleasure in observing someone - especially a man - without being watched herself. He seemed to have no interest in holding her gaze or treating her simply as a beautiful woman. This act of _looking_ , of _seeing_ , sparked something inside her. She had the desire to grab his jaw, turn it, move his limbs like a mannequin. He would be so easy to manipulate, but despite how much power she would have over him, she would still be spending her time working around a man.

 

She looked around the train and suddenly noticed all the women - a young college student wearing a pair of ripped tights and red earbuds, a woman about her age pushing a baby carriage back and forth, the sleeping baby herself wearing a light pink sleeper, and a white-haired woman looking out the window grasping her brown leather pocketbook against her midsection. She wondered what they were thinking, what the challenges were in their lives, and what they wanted from the future. What did she want from the future?

 

* * *

 

_April 2015, Chicago, Illinois_

 

Carol walked into the hotel room and dropped her purse on the floor, which she typically never did, but her body was on fire, both from the bourbon and from the feeling of this young, dark auburn-haired woman who had been pushing herself closer and closer to Carol for the past three hours as they stood at the bar. She was a law student, or a medical student, or something of the sort - she really couldn’t quite remember at this point despite the fact that this wasn’t their first meeting. She rarely drank bourbon when she was on the hunt, as it gave her a relaxed feeling of slow, sensuous arousal that contrasted too sharply with her usual rough and forceful demeanor during those encounters.

 

The girl walked over to the long table that rested against the wall of the suite, pulling some of her long, thick hair off her face and pulling her skirt down. Carol came up behind her, watching her in the mirror as the girl’s eyes moved from her own face, down to where her hips were being pushed into the table, and then finally back up at Carol. Her green eyes were filled with impatience, but then a flash of something sinister - perhaps fear - showed itself. Carol rarely met the same girl more than once, but an account had her traveling to Chicago almost weekly and this young girl had captured her interest after their first night together. She looked at Carol as if she were some sort of angel, the savior that was going to prevent her from drowning in whatever unbearable emotion she brought to their interactions. Carol slammed into her, watching those green eyes in the mirror beg her for what Carol so desperately wanted herself. If Carol could give it to someone else, then she was capable of creating it. She didn’t need it from any external source, and she could stop putting herself through the torture of searching for it. Carol moved the position of her hand so that only her thumb was inside the girl, its pad rubbing against her inner wall as her other fingers began working her clit. Carol reluctantly kept eye contact, searching for what she needed, but before she could find it, the girl’s orgasm forced her eyes closed, leaving Carol looking at herself in the mirror. She was lost looking into the eyes of a beautiful, lonely object. The hazy form next to her that was still clenching around her fingers produced words.

 

“I love you, Julia.”

 

* * *

 

_June 2007, New York City_

 

Harge held the keycard up to the door panel, and the click that accompanied the flashing green light grated on Carol’s ears like a single, high-pitched stab to her eardrums. Carol looked down at her off-white satin heels, hating how they shone in the dim spotlight above the entrance to their hotel room. She hadn’t picked a traditional, full-skirted dress, but even her knee-length, fitted lace sheath felt too cliché - like she was attempting to assuage her knowledge that it would be more appropriate for her to be wearing a black dress thereby keeping the white fabric to a minimum. Did anyone else see the darkness beginning to wind through the pristine white threads? The skin of innocence sickened her.

 

Harge turned to her, his brilliant, face-changing smile hitting her, landing a blow in the center of her chest. She lifted the corners of her mouth, showing him her teeth like a pitiful offering, hoping that small opening of herself would be enough to maintain his complete joy. He looked at her with reverence, a dreamy look of utter worship in his eyes. She was wholly beautiful, wholly innocent, wholly _his_. Whatever parts of her were not those things escaped his gaze. She looked down, not wanting to be subject to his eyes’ adoration for a moment longer.

 

As they made their way to the bed, Harge’s gentle hands roaming her body, she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne. It was comforting, the same cologne she had been smelling for years, the scent that promised she was safe with someone who saw the good in her.

 

Carol kept her eyes closed the entire time, this time not so that she could imagine herself with someone else, but instead to let her body feel the sensations inside of her without having to face him or pretend to be the person he believed her to be. He would find out eventually, but in this moment, he was still basking in the only light she allowed through the hazy screen in front of his eyes when he looked at her. They both calmed their breathing as Harge moved to lay next to her. With her eyes focused on the ceiling, she could see Harge studying her in her peripheral vision.

 

“I love you, Mrs. Aird.”

 

* * *

 

Carol texted Therese when she got home, overcome by a desire to channel her energy and what she had just realized on the train into Therese.

 

C: Come upstairs.

 

T: Is that a request or a demand?

 

C: Somewhere in between. Come.

 

When she opened the door, Therese gave her an innocent but expectant smile and walked in without saying anything.

 

When Carol made her way to the living room, Therese turned around and pulled her into her arms. Carol let Therese own her lips for a moment, then pushed her back gently so that she could look into her eyes. She needed to see, and to be sure she was being seen. Therese looked back at her, letting one fingertip trace the soft curve of her jaw. For a brief moment, lust had evaporated and was replaced by honest appraisal. _There_. As soon as it had dissipated a moment ago, the lust gathered itself back into an entity cohesive enough to re-form in Therese’s gaze. As Therese began running her hands roughly down Carol’s neck, across her breasts, and down to her hips, Carol sighed and let herself be pushed towards the couch. Therese’s eyes followed her hands, absorbing every detail of her body hungrily. Carol had never felt so uninhibited while being looked at, while having her body appraised by someone who had every intention of devouring it.

 

* * *

 

Once Therese had pinned Carol on her back on the couch, she took another moment to sweep her eyes down the lithe body that lay under her. Therese reached her hand down to touch Carol’s thigh, being met with the textured weave of her form-fitting skirt instead of the soft flesh she desired. Therese pushed herself up and hooked both thumbs underneath the hem of Carol’s skirt, pushing it up her thighs until she couldn’t get the material to go any farther past her hips. The professional, demure piece was now reduced to a provocative miniskirt, just enough material to cover what had been on Therese’s mind since that afternoon. She laid on her side next to Carol. Therese ran her fingertips from Carol’s knee and along the inside of her thigh until she was halted by the bottom of the skirt, then she dipped her fingers into the crevice where her thighs met, still moving along the line of the hem and across to the other thigh. She looked up to see Carol’s eyes closed, one wayward strand of blonde hair laying gently across her lips. Therese laid her palm on Carol’s stomach over her snug, plum-hued sweater, pulling it out from the top of her skirt before slipping her hand underneath to trace a fingertip along the skin just below the underwire of her bra. She pulled one of her bra cups down, giving her hand access to the soft flesh inside it. She had to have her mouth on Carol, something to occupy her twitching jaw. She leaned down and let her tongue drag its way across her body.

 

Therese looked down at her, this sophisticated, well-dressed woman now reduced to a lust-filled, writhing creature, skirt pushed up carelessly, one breast uncovered by the bra cup that was caught under it, her stomach painted with a wet stripe from Therese’s tongue, visible in the dim light from the lamp across the room. Therese just watched, Carol rubbing her thighs together as her body moved agitatedly, as if staying in constant motion would satisfy her desire or at least hold it at bay. Therese could feel the tingle between her own legs and let her eyes drink in the sight of Carol’s undulating mound, fluttering eyes, and slightly parted lips to stoke it further. She was still enjoying the sight when Carol opened her eyes.

 

“Baby. I’m dying for you.”

 

Therese indulged herself in one more moment of watching Carol, who looked like she was almost in pain, before she got up on her knees and straddled Carol. She laid herself on top of her, then pulled Carol’s lower back into her, signaling that she wanted to flip them over. As soon as Carol settled on top of Therese, she started moving, finding Therese’s hipbone and grinding her clit down on it as she closed her eyes once again. Therese looked down between them, letting the sight of this half-naked goddess pleasuring herself by riding Therese fuel the stream she could already feel escaping her. She placed her hands on Carol’s hips and pulled them into her even harder, eliciting a feminine but primal grunt from Carol as she began to move faster. Carol moved her lips over Therese’s and whispered into them.

 

“I can’t wait. I can’t…”

 

Therese took a quick breath in, trying to pull her mind into a state suitable for forming a response, knowing Carol’s quivering lips and tensed quads signaled her imminent release. Therese watched her, hanging there on the edge, letting the sight enter through her eyes but radiate throughout her entire being - swirling around her heart, down between her legs, and outward toward her fingertips until she finally decided to give Carol the tiny push that would send her off the cliff she currently clung to.

 

“You’re making me so wet. I could come just watching you.”

 

Carol ground against her a few more times, her consistent movement slowing to the smallest twitches as she let out a series of breathy cries into Therese’s mouth, her entire body jerking every few seconds until she shivered, unable to stand any more movement, instead still pressing herself firmly against Therese’s hip. She finally collapsed, allowing her entire body weight to sink onto Therese. Carol let out a satisfied hum along with a deep breath.

 

“I love you,” Carol murmured exasperatedly into Therese’s neck.

 

“I love you, Carol.”


	23. Infidel, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, I suppose. This is part one of a two-part chapter. It’s about half the length of my usual chapters. I'm just getting back into the groove of things, so forgive any awkwardness here as I transition back to writing - I'm a bit rusty. Not to mention the fact that I have forgotten some of my own narrative...
> 
> Your thoughts are always appreciated. Thanks for your patience, my friends.

Carol swiped her hand across the counter, stopped just before the edge, contemplating, then proceeded, sending some nondescript crumbs and other debris onto the floor. She felt a sting and instantly remembered. She lifted her hand to study the deep red cut that sliced across one of the natural lines on her palm boldly, inserting itself into the permanent character of her hand. She wondered if the scar would still be there in a month. A year. Ten years. Of course it would. It would deface her palm for the rest of her life, no matter how faint or nearly painless it eventually became.

 

There was a sudden shuffling outside the apartment door followed immediately by the soft click of the release of the door lock. Therese came in, holding her portfolio in one hand as she pushed the door open with the other. She was looking at the ground, door banging lightly against her side awkwardly, the uninhibited and careless motions of someone who knew they were coming in to an empty space - the comfort and protection of solitude. As she lowered the portfolio to the ground, the keys fell out of her hand. She bent to pick them up, and on her way back to standing she caught Carol’s figure and froze, looking alarmed for a fraction of a second. Her expression changed from neutral to guarded immediately, and she straightened her shoulders and settled into a direct stare at Carol. The six or eight feet between them felt like miles. After several painful moments of just looking at one another, Therese picked up the portfolio and walked into the guest room. Carol followed her, a lone figure in the doorway watching Therese pile her drawings neatly and slide them into her portfolio with care.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Carol kept her eyes on her, waiting for Therese to look up. When she did, Carol was struck by the emotionless daze of Therese’s eyes.

 

“You did it.”

 

* * *

 

_Three Days Earlier_

 

Carol pulled her tight A-line skirt down her legs as she stepped out of the cab, shimmying her hips so it would straighten itself as she walked toward the glass doors. A dark-haired man - or rather, a boy - smiled genially as he held open the door for her. Carol strolled through the lobby of the hotel and glanced toward the reception desk, focusing on a young woman wearing a delicate, airy ascot around her slender neck who was speaking softly to a man who was clearly upset. The girl looked as if she was on the verge of tears, and Carol wanted to intervene somehow, but she averted her eyes, flipping her hair away from her face as she faced forward again and walked on to the entryway to the bar. Before she completed her first scan of the room, she heard a vaguely familiar voice from the periphery.

 

“A vision, as always.” His genuine smile made her momentarily uneasy. She met his eyes and had a moment of panic as she searched her brain for his name. She knew his face, but a few more torturous moments passed before it came to her. Neal Regan. The CEO from one of their competing firms who had called her asking her whether she was interested in moving just last week.

 

“Neal.” She extended her hand, and he caught it and enveloped it in both of his. She forced herself to smile, looking at him silently. Like her, he was young for an executive, perhaps about forty. His light hair and blue eyes gave him a boyish look, but his presence was confident and smooth. She would usually have launched into a conversation about some inane detail of his personal or professional life, one of the snippets she filed in her brain on each of the important people she met in order to have something to ease the transition into a business conversation, but she was too busy trying to connect the dots and figure out why she would be sent to woo Neal, who already ran his own marketing company. If they were trying to acquire them, Johnson would be at this meeting. He had practically begged her to go, rescheduling the meeting after she had backed out last time, thinking he was just wanting her to do her usual bait and reel.

 

That was it. _Johnson_. He’d set her up. Carol was caught off guard and she hated him for it. She knew that he would know how crazy it would make her. _Why?_ A word of immense weakness that she hated to feel drift across her brain.

 

“Please.” Neal gestured toward the bar and Carol perched on one of the chairs. He was tall, and even when sitting, he seemed to tower over her. She noticed the gold wedding band on his finger and the platinum cufflinks holding together his crisp white shirt cuffs. They clashed with the ring, and she remembered the countless times she had told Harge what he could and could not wear. They were sitting closely enough that she had to look up slightly to meet his gaze. His cologne was masculine but subtle, and it gave her a strange feeling. Something akin to melancholy, but not quite that strong.

 

He motioned for the bartender and Carol watched him carefully, wondering what he knew. She wasn’t keen on going to work for him given the circumstances of this meeting. Not to mention the fact that the company was based on the west coast. She knew they had satellite offices in New York and Chicago, but the executives were all in San Francisco. If he dared to offer her a position as a mid-level manager of one of the satellite design studios, she would strangle him with his own red tie, then find Johnson in his Upper East Side condo and strangle him next.

 

At the very least, a drink was on its way. The hand that placed the glass in front of her was smooth and manicured, and she looked up into the eyes of a woman about her age. The woman’s light green eyes narrowed as she gave Carol a polite smile. For some inexplicable reason, Carol was surprised to see a woman behind the bar. She picked up the drink, smiling politely back with a tiny nod. The male voice beside her pulled her back into the present.

 

“So you’re looking.” Neal oriented himself towards her, his body language relaxed and content.

 

Carol lifted her eyebrows as she carefully placed her glass against her lips, parting them so that her lips made as little contact with the glass as possible to avoid leaving a lipstick stain and watched the liquid rush towards her. “Apparently.”

 

“Carol.” His voice indicated that he was about to launch into an explanation designed to make her feel better. She didn’t need to hear it. She had no use for apologetic sympathy. If Johnson wanted her out, she wouldn’t fight it.


	24. Infidel, Part II

_There’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth_

_There’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt_

_It’s still a little hard to say what’s going on_

-Damien Rice

 

Carol stared straight up at the sky, resenting the cool, clear night and its shameless beauty. The stars were always dimmed by the city lights, but they seemed brighter than usual tonight. She decided to take a cab home and climbed in only to be hit with the overpowering scent of men’s cologne, actually letting out a cough as she felt it assault her nostrils. She tried to study the driver surreptitiously when she was telling him her address. He didn’t appear to be the type to even wear cologne, but she felt an overwhelming need to know the origin of the smell, and so leaned forward as far as possible without raising suspicion. The smell was less intense the closer she got to the driver. It was some other man - some man who had sat here before her, and clearly not long ago, as the unfamiliar smell was dissipating already. Or perhaps she was just getting used to it. She wondered what kind of man he was. She always associated a barrage of cologne with flashiness, an ostentatious display meant to cover up something tender and raw. Something too close to the truth.

 

Her phone dinged and she struggled to pull it out of her coat pocket. Therese.

 

T: How did it go?

 

Carol started typing, then erased the few words that had immediately come to mind and decided not to get into it. It was too soon.

 

C: Ugh.

 

T: Want me to come over?

 

C: I thought you were out with Noelle.

 

T: I am, but she won’t care. I’ll just come home.

 

Carol considered it. It would make sense to want to be comforted by Therese, but something in her was exhausted at the idea of having to explain the situation. She needed to decide what she wanted to do before she involved Therese.

 

C: No, I’m fine. Idiotic corporate politics.

 

Looking at her own text led to tears involuntarily filling her eyes, but she stopped them. She wondered why she was letting this upset her so much. Business was business, and not only had she been the target before, she had done much worse to others.

 

T: Okay. I’ll text you when I get back and see if you’re up.

 

C: Just use your damn key.

 

Carol realized she probably sounded harsh, but she was in fact exasperated with Therese’s reluctance to enter her space of her own accord.

 

Carol began writing another text to explain that she wasn’t upset, but was interrupted by a phone call. It was Harge. She silenced it and got back to her text.

 

C: I’m sorry, I’m just in a mood. I’ll leave the door unlocked, but please just come in. I’ll see you later. Love you.

 

As soon as she clicked her phone to black and leaned her head back against the seat, it began ringing again. Harge. She let it ring twice, then silenced it again.

 

As she climbed out of the cab, one of her heels caught on a wide crack in the pavement and she faltered, muttering a quiet “ _Fuck_ ” as she planted the other foot firmly on solid ground to steady herself. The elevator ride was painful, mainly because a joyous and slightly drunk young couple got on just after her and spent the ride up to their floor in jubilation, their laughter punctuated by the sloppy kisses the young woman placed on her companion’s bearded cheek. Carol wished the elevator cable would snap and send all three of them plummeting to the ground.

 

She was able to spend her ascent of the last two floors alone, and emerged to an uncharacteristically cold hallway. As she glanced down the hall, she noticed a tall man some distance down. He was outside her door. She couldn’t even make out his face, but the way he held his shoulders and the way his left hand came up to rub the back of his neck gave him away. She looked straight at him as she walked, then immediately turned and slammed her keys into the lock. He came into the apartment behind her, and she threw her purse on the counter and turned to face him.

 

“What the fuck do you want?”

 

Harge opened his mouth slightly, then closed it. She knew he was considering his words carefully, as he often did. It was infuriating.

 

“Just fucking out with it, Harge. I’m not in the mood.”

 

He took a few steps towards her, and she could see the shadows of his dark shoes moving against the floor, a soft clicking with each step.

 

“Carol, I had no idea.”

 

She felt herself becoming angry, a flush spreading over her chest and face instantly. She was frantically trying to connect how Harge already knew about this and why it even involved him. Johnson? What use was Harge to him?

 

“How the fuck do you know about this?”

 

Harge took one step toward her.

 

“My father just called me. Not an hour ago.”

 

His father. She was still jiggering the puzzle in her head; how this had come to be. Harge was just watching her, probably reading the confusion on her face, yet not explaining. She lunged a bit toward him and all-out shouted.

 

“Tell me!”

 

He almost always acquiesced to Carol’s anger, but this time he hesitated for a few seconds. She was fuming.

 

“My father and the new CEO of the firm decided to sell to Johnson. I don’t know the details yet, he just called me about this forty-five minutes ago. I had no idea.”

 

The right side of Carol’s mouth pulled up into a sardonic smile.

 

“And your father wants me out.” She let out a shrill, startling laugh that could cut into bone. “What, is my leaving a condition of sale?”

 

Harge rearranged his feet, but they ended up in the exact same place.

 

“I really don’t know, Carol.”

 

“And you’re telling me you knew _nothing_ of this?”

 

“He mentioned offers and I could tell they were considering selling, but-”

 

Carol interrupted him without hesitation.

 

“And you didn’t think you should tell me that?”

 

He stepped closer. They were now only a few feet apart.

 

“I tried to call you last week, and you didn’t pick up or even bother to call me back. So that’s where I thought we were. You’ve made it pretty clear. I’m not going to fall at your feet forever, Carol. What about _my_ life? What about all this time I’ve lost to you? You leave this trail of destruction behind you and still expect everyone to be on your side. Maybe it’s finally catching up to you.”

 

His chest was rising and falling quickly, but as he finished speaking, he seemed to realize the words he had just said and his face showed a flash of panic and he looked down at the floor. When he glanced back up, he looked at Carol with a softer expression, but didn’t apologize.

 

Carol looked into his brown eyes, trying to decipher what they were silently communicating. Anger, hesitance… what else? Where was what she knew? Had she lost it?

 

She tried to swallow it back, to take a deep breath, but it was futile. She lost all control of her body and the tears ran down her face with unstoppable speed. She let out an audible sob, and looking at the floor, she saw Harge’s leather shoes come even closer until they were almost touching the toes of her burgundy heels. She felt his arms wrap around her and turned her head to the side so that she could lay it against his shoulder. _Here it was._ The safety. The security. The subtle scent of that old familiar cologne, only slightly stronger than the scent of him. The intimacy. The hope that she was still worthy of love.

 

He leaned back a few inches and placed a kiss on Carol’s cheek. She stared at the collar of his royal blue sweater, the neat edge frayed almost imperceptibly near his shoulder. She dared to look up and meet his eyes and he kissed her on the lips without hesitation. She immediately turned her face down again, but returned to resting her head on his shoulder. She didn’t want to walk away yet and give up this feeling, however fleeting and however misunderstood on Harge’s part. He bent down and placed a kiss on the side of Carol’s neck as another tear fell from her eyes. Here they were again, another time he couldn’t help but give in to her, to give into what they both feared would forever be his greatest weakness. His lips were still on her neck when the door swung open. Carol leapt back from Harge as quickly as she could, trying to hide what was happening, but she could tell by Therese’s expression when she looked towards the door that she had failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean... I don't know.


	25. Statues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning. There is no actual forced sex happening here, but there are references to it. Just something to be aware of if that is a particularly sensitive subject for you.

 Well I looked my demons in the eyes

Lay bare my chest  
Said do your best  
To destroy me

See I've been to hell and back  
So many times  
I must admit  
You kinda bore me

-Ray LaMontagne

 

There was an excruciating silence. Therese could feel a tightness in her gut that ascended her torso and squeezed her heart into rapid beat. She could only bear to glance at Carol momentarily at first. She looked at Harge and he cast his eyes down and away from her, a dog caught ripping something valuable apart, full of shame and agonizing discomfort. She closed her eyes briefly before looking at Carol, attempting to prepare herself for what she might see. The shame emanating off Harge didn’t extend to Carol. She stood with an inhuman stillness, the only sign of life the deep, clearly taxing rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were soft but unwavering, meeting Therese’s gaze without falter. Therese studied her carefully, her hands loosely touching one another in front of her waist, one foot angled toward Therese while the other remained straight, as if pointing at Harge with its sharp toe. Her individual body parts suggested uncertainty, but somehow, she gave off an air of resolve and fearlessness. It was sickening. Therese felt a dull but wide wave of nausea roll through her, its peaks filled with physical discomfort and its lows filling with sadness. As she regained consciousness from her moment of shock, the sadness became rage.

 

“What the _fuck_ is going on?”

 

Carol finally moved, a statue reluctantly forced into motion. She moved a few feet toward Therese, and Therese resisted the invisible magnet from behind her that seemed to be pulling her away from Carol. Carol’s advance toward her was penetrating her reality, the space outside the surreal image she walked in on, where she would have to accept that this was actually happening. Carol still said nothing.

 

“You have nothing to say?” Therese asked loudly.

 

Carol finally broke eye contact, glancing down to the floor. Her bent head gave Therese a glimpse of Harge behind her, his head still oriented toward the ground. They were pathetic, the both of them. Therese let out a forceful scoff and shook her head. Carol lifted her head at the noise.

 

She still looked into Therese’s eyes, not speaking for another few seconds.

 

“I understand how upsetting this must be, but it means nothing. Nothing at all.” Her voice was a little shaky, and her eyes finally looked nervous.

 

Therese raised her hand and gestured at Harge, at where they were just standing.

 

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” She was shouting now.

 

Harge came to life and made a few tentative steps toward Therese.

 

“I’m sorry. To both of you. I’m sorry. I’m going to go.”

 

Therese would have to move to allow him access to the door, but she blocked his path fearlessly and stared at him until his eyes met hers. They remained like this for a few moments before Therese let him go by.

 

Carol never took her eyes from Therese, even as Harge was leaving.

 

“Let me explain what’s going on.”

 

Therese looked up and started speaking with caustic amusement.

 

“Well, it looks like you were about to fuck your ex-husband.”

 

Carol’s eyes widened.

 

“That’s obviously not true. He was comforting me.”

 

“He was kissing your neck! What excuse is there for that?”

 

Carol looked down and Therese continued, her voice quieter.

 

“Did anything else happen?”

 

“He kissed me.”

 

“And you just let it happen?”

 

“No. Well, I couldn’t-”

 

Therese interrupted her.

 

“You _couldn’t_? You can’t fucking control yourself? I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. We just have different values. Different ideas of…” she shook her head, then uttered almost silently, “morality.”

 

Carol looked taken aback, but responded apologetically, meekly.

 

“I lost my job today.”

 

Therese had a moment of confusion, then panic, then anger.

 

“Is that an excuse?”

 

“No. I just need you to-”

Therese held up her hand, as if she could keep Carol from talking by keeping her physically at bay. Or as if she could command the dog to stay, heel, repent. Carol tried to walk toward her anyway and got within a few inches before Therese acquiesced to the magnet behind her and turned around and walked out of the apartment.

 

* * *

 

_November 1997, Great Falls, Virginia_

 

“Carol, I need you to behave like an adult about this. It’s my personal business.”

 

Carol was silent. Her father was standing outside her closed door, speaking quietly. The door was unlocked, but he hadn’t tried to come in. She knew exactly what he was saying. “Behave like an adult” meant to accept that this was how “real” relationships worked. The fact that it was his “personal business” meant that she was supposed to keep his secret. Particularly from her mother. She had only arrived home from his office about five minutes ago, and he was predictably at her bedroom door about two minutes after she closed herself in there. He had to have sped home, as his car was always in the parking garage across the street from his office building and having to walk over there should have slowed him down significantly.

 

“Carol.” It was a question disguised as a simple statement of her name.

 

She looked at the door.

 

“Yes.” It was an answer to his question. A reassurance. She could hear his footsteps walk away.

 

She closed her eyes and wondered how she’d ever get the image out of her head. She had strode confidently through the dim office, walking through the open door of her father’s personal office, her economics paper draft in hand. She was met with the image of one of the young accountants he employed sitting on his desk, her father sitting in his chair in front of her, his hands disappearing under her skirt as he slid them up her thighs. Her father looked up and the young woman turned to look at Carol, then immediately hopped off the desk and pulled down her skirt, looking around frantically as if she might jump out an open window if offered the opportunity. Carol turned slowly and ran out of the office, down to her car that was illegally parked in front of the building, and cried the entire half hour drive home.

 

* * *

 

Carol sat at the kitchen table as her mother flipped through the mail, tossing out anything she didn’t like the look of as if it had never existed and sorting the rest into a few neat piles. Carol was writing thank you notes to her aunts and uncles, grandparents, and a boring list of others and put the pen down to study her mother carefully. Her mother’s lipstick was perfectly applied, somehow meeting the edge of her lip with surgical precision and no sign of lipliner. The growing wrinkles around her eyes intensified as she squinted at the piece of mail in front of her, and she held it out at arm’s length to read it. Carol still considered her one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. All her life, Carol could remember her friends commenting on how beautiful her mother was and how lucky she was to be her daughter, idealizing her the way little girls do with attractive adult women. Her blonde hair reflected the sunlight coming in through the large windows, and from her view of her mother’s profile she could just make out the flutter of her lovely eyelashes as she blinked. Carol watched her mother’s perfect figure turn away and walk toward the living room, and she couldn’t understand how her father could possibly want anything more.

 

“Mom?”

 

Her mother walked back into the kitchen, now looking at a piece of paper that was so crisply folded into thirds that she had to shake it out several times to flatten it enough to be able to read it.

 

“What?” She spoke with a wandering tone, distracted.

 

“I went to Dad’s office yesterday after practice. I wanted to drop off my paper for him to proofread since he said he wasn’t going to be home until late. It’s due tomorrow and I don’t have time to wait for him to do it tonight because then I won’t have time to make changes…”

 

A glance at her mother told her she was barely listening to Carol. She’d just get right to it.

 

“You know that accountant Kathleen?”

 

Her mother looked up at her instantly, her hands frozen, the letter’s fragile flatness giving way to its severe crease as the bottom third flopped down defeatedly.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well I guess maybe she had to stay late or something because it was like eight o’clock when I got there and-”

 

Her mother interrupted her and spoke to her harshly.

 

“Carol, you shouldn’t be interrupting your father when he’s at work. He is not responsible for doing your schoolwork. You are. He coddles you with his help. If you ever want to realize your potential, you need to stop acting like a child and be responsible for your own life. You can’t rely on anyone else to take care of you. At some point, each and every one of them will fail you.”

 

She turned and walked away calmly, a breathtaking figure made of stone.

 

* * *

 

They fell onto the bed, Harge hurriedly unbuttoning her blouse as she kicked her heels off the side of the bed. They hit the hardwood floor with a jarring bang, a bang much louder than it should have been. It seemed to reverberate, a repetitive echo of the dropped shoe. Harge kissed her passionately, desperately, and she pulled him into her with unfathomable haste. There was a flash of light that flickered above the bed, and Carol tried to open her eyes but couldn’t. She could somehow see through her closed eyelids that it was too bright to look at directly, and Harge’s dark hair blocked some of it. He was moving, constantly in motion, and she felt herself stilling.

 

All of a sudden, her body jerked, and she tried to sit up, tried to lift Harge off her, but he was too heavy. He was still kissing her, touching her, and her arms remained around him, pulling him even closer. She had no control over them - the only part of her that was conscious was her brain, and her body would not obey. She pushed and pushed, yelling and then, eventually, screaming, for Harge to get off her, but she knew she wasn’t making any noise and she wasn’t moving any part of her body. She had been the one who asked him for it. Demanded it from him. Was still demanding it from him, even in this moment. She was the one in control of both of them. He was simply a puppet and she was moving his body.

 

The flash of light got brighter, drowning him out, and she was alone again. Her panic came on suddenly as she looked frantically for something to hold onto, something familiar, but everything in her bedroom looked foreign. She found her phone, in a pink case she recognized but had never bought. As she flipped the phone over to study the case, she saw a small monogrammed “J” in script on the upper left corner. It was Jasmine’s. She remembered hating it since the moment Jasmine got it, always walking around the office with it in hand. Once she unlocked it, she was faced with a screen entirely unlike her own, and she realized that the picture background underneath the apps was of her - her and Jasmine, Jasmine facing the camera, with Carol’s head cocked to the side kissing her tanned, slender neck. They looked utterly blissful. Carol was completely lost, looking around her for someone else or some kind of explanation. Her head was cloudy and she couldn’t force her way through the opaque, formless confusion in order to recall these moments from her memory. She realized that no matter what, it was done. She had slept with Harge, lied about having been with Jasmine, had somehow forgotten all of it herself and was only now remembering. She had put the nail in the coffin with her relationship with Therese, and there was no way to reverse it.

 

* * *

 

A persistent wail clawed at Carol’s ears from somewhere in the apartment, and she tried to force herself to get up and find out what it was. As she floated to the surface, she opened her eyes and blinked a few times, taking in her surroundings, the dark but delicate shadows wrapping around the familiar objects in her bedroom telling her it was sometime just before dawn. She was cold, despite how warm it was in the apartment, and realized she was laying in her own sweat. Sitting up, she looked to her nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was her regular black phone case.

 

She opened her messages and texted Therese, not caring what time it was.

 

C: I love you. I don’t want to imagine my life without you. I’ve already said sorry a million times over the past couple days, but I know that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll give you all the time you need, but please just tell me if there’s a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to ask questions if this is at all confusing. Please share your thoughts! I'm so interested to hear what you're thinking.


	26. Drawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains (consensual) sexual violence. It's not for the weak of heart, so please keep that in mind. If you're a delicate little flower... I warned you.

Two hours later, there was still no response from Therese. A swirl of dread ascended in Carol’s chest, as Therese typically answered her fairly quickly, even if it was late. She couldn’t force herself back to sleep despite how exhausted she was, her mind unwilling to slow down and grant her the privilege of sleep.

 

She decided to give in to her nagging brain and lift her fragile body from the warmth of her sheets. She pulled her muted gray robe out of the closet, feeling the chill of fall beginning to descend, creeping in from all angles - first turning her possessions cold, then extending its cruel fingers onto the surface of her skin. She stood dumbly in the open space of her apartment, desperately wanting to be told what to do. Her mind felt too cloudy and disorganized to work, and she was in no mood to watch television for fear of encountering any romantic strife in some ill-written drama - or worse, any suggestion of love and happiness. She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, then closed it. She sauntered over to the liquor table and reached for her bourbon, her fingertips resting on the cold glass surface, then decided against it. She opened the dishwasher and began emptying it. 

 

She normally never neglected to put things away, but these dishes had been sitting there, bone dry and chilly to the touch, for two days. Once the plates and bowls were stacked neatly in the cabinet, she reached for the silverware. The first handful yielded a few forks, a butter knife, and one of the metal straws Therese had brought her because her roommate had received fifty instead of the ten she swore she ordered. Apparently Noelle was trying to replace all the plastic utensils in their apartment, and it made Carol think about how young they were. Putting the few items away serially and methodically, she turned back to reach for more when a searing pain zinged neatly through her palm, slicing along with the upward motion of her hand as she lifted it out of the basket. Looking down, a razor-thin cut extended all the way across her palm, perfect and neat for a split second until dark red blood began seeping out in a lurid line. The knife showed no evidence of what it had done, as if its blade was only sharpened by her multilayered flesh. After a beat, she let out a loud curse, reflexively closing her hand into a tight fist to try to hold the blood contained. When she started to run cold water over it, she watched the blood dilute and float away down the sink, only to be replaced by a fresh gush every time she pulled her hand slightly out of the stream.

 

Gripping a clean dish towel tightly in her fist, she abandoned the task and closed the dishwasher door with a slam. She collapsed onto the couch and squeezed, waiting, praying the bleeding would abate. There were moments that she felt as if she could doze off, but whenever she felt the edges of sleep fading into view, the pain in her hand would flare as if purposefully shaking her awake.

 

She finally found herself in her bed again, staring up at the ceiling as she resisted the urge to curl her hand, now trapped in a bulky wrap of gauze she had found in the back of the bathroom closet. The last time she had used it was when she had cut her ankle deeply while shaving her legs - that was years ago now; before she had stopped sleeping with Harge. She could remember him telling her not to worry about wearing a dress and heels to one of their client dinners if she was self-conscious about the bandage and her ankle was bothering her. She wore them anyway.

 

She could have taken a couple of the prescription painkillers that laid mostly untouched in the depths of her bathroom shelves behind the hand towels she never used, but it seemed futile. She had to be up for work in a hour and a half. She would have to face Johnson, and her first time seeing him since the meeting with Neal would be critical to her next steps. She’d also have to see Therese, whose silence was permeating her every thought. She’d have to look at Jasmine’s face as well, the same beautiful one that had appeared in her nightmare earlier. And now she had this massive, hideous bandage. It was too much, too many things at once. She always told herself she could handle anything and hold her head up high no matter the circumstances or her transgressions, but she felt weak, like the blood undoubtedly still seeping out of her hand was taking her resolve with it. She turned off her alarm just as the light of the dawn was starting to bleed into the sky, but she barely saw a glimpse of the sun on the horizon before she floated into sleep.

 

* * *

 

She awoke to a rhythmic banging, persistent and increasingly loud as it crept into her awareness. She realized that someone was knocking on the door, quite aggressively, and she pushed herself up and out of the bed to walk out of the bedroom. The light was bright and clear coming in through the massive living room window, and she looked quickly at the clock. It was almost noon. As soon as she grabbed the door handle, she yelped. Her damn hand - she had forgotten already. She felt a chill on her bare legs and arms; she must have made her way out of her robe during her restless sleep. Her shorts and camisole left little protection from the cold, open foyer of her apartment.

 

When she saw her face, she immediately took a step back. Therese came thundering in such that Carol had to jump out of the way. She reached the kitchen counter and threw her purse on it, the metal that held the straps clanging abrasively against the granite. She turned to look at Carol and took an agitated breath.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

Carol opened her mouth immediately but told herself to take a moment and think before making a sound. Therese just waited.

 

“I texted you last night…”

 

“I know. I wasn’t ready to talk to you yet. And the longer I sat in the office this morning, the more angry I got. You could at least come in and face me.”

 

Carol fought the urge to defend herself. It took incredible effort to refrain from being defensive or trying to control the situation. She said the only thing she could, the only thing that she knew to be fully, unequivocally true.

 

“I love you. I  _ only  _ love you. I know that probably means nothing to you right now, but - ” Carol stopped, not knowing what to say next. She stepped closer until her body almost touched Therese’s, then got on her knees and rested her hands on her hips, the scratchy fabric of Therese’s dress pants a tiny punishment on her skin as she slid her cheek across them. She stayed there a moment before feeling Therese grip her arms and pull Carol up and away from her firmly.

 

“What do you  _ want _ ?” Therese sounded exhausted with her, and it sent Carol into an internal panic. She wanted to speak, but still held back for fear of saying the wrong thing. She may be further angering Therese with her silence, but in this moment she felt that every word she uttered could decide the fate of their relationship, and she had to make them the right ones. She could tell Therese’s exhaustion was becoming anger again.

 

“He just shows up and we disappear? You’re not straight, Carol. Do you want him? Or are you just willing to sell sex for affection? Because right now you look like a whore from where I’m at.”

 

Carol stood up and felt her cheeks burning and a feeling of nausea wave up her torso threateningly. Therese’s face showed a glimmer of regret at her words, but even stronger was the anger that so obviously coursed through her.

 

Carol couldn’t help herself. She let the dam that had been holding back her instincts break. She made the few strides to Therese and pushed her against the wall. She looked Therese dead in the eyes, then pushed her lips into hers violently, using her good hand to pull the small of Therese’s back against her. Therese kissed her back, then pulled away, pushed Carol away from her, only to lean back into the violent kiss. Carol was in a frenzy, unbuttoning Therese’s pants and pulling the zipper down. She placed two fingers at There’s entrance and pushed inside her firmly, starting to fuck her before being reminded again of the gash in her hand, which burned like fire as she contorted her hand to get inside Therese. Therese cried out in both pleasure and immense pain, looking up to see Carol’s face covered in tears. She couldn’t help her body’s reaction to this woman - the way her lips sought hers, the way her heart pounded for her, the way that the mere suggestion of Carol touching her made her wet. 

 

* * *

 

Therese pushed Carol away from her, having to sink to the floor to wrestle Carol’s arms off of her; she was desperately trying to wrap Therese in an embrace. She pinned Carol to the floor and gave her a wild, dangerous look before she forced her hand under Carol’s shorts and underwear, mirroring Carol’s movements just a few moments prior by pushing herself into her and immediately fucking her with abandon, rough and unyielding. Eventually, Carol let her arms fall and let out a few painful moans, feeling the wetness seep out of her, not just around Therese’s fingers but also from her own eyes. When they made eye contact, both with tears falling, Therese lifted her hand and as if possessed by something outside herself, she slapped Carol across the cheek. Carol let out a painful cry, but returned quickly to her broken sounds of pleasure as Therese continued, now laying her full weight on Carol such that the inside of her forearm was pressing against Carol’s clit. With a high-pitched cry, Carol came, shaking and sobbing.

 

Therese pulled back and stopped, frozen, looking into Carol’s bleary eyes, the remnants of mascara from the previous day bleeding from the outer corner, her nose running slightly, the shine of her saliva glinting in the sunlight coming in through the window. The lines around her eyes deepened when she cried, and she could make out the gray hairs that hid among the light brown roots of her blonde bob. She was messy, imperfect, and grotesquely human. Therese pushed herself all the way up and looked back as Carol got off the floor, grabbing her purse then looking back at her one more time before she walked out, the door closing softly behind her.


	27. Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> First of all, some news: I'm going to be a mom! There will be a little Lilybaby in the world this August!
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> I think the last time I updated was about six months ago. Be kind, I'm juuuust getting back into writing right now so I'm a little rusty.
> 
> Reminders on the order of recent events in the story:  
> 1\. Carol was pushed out of her job  
> 2\. Therese walked in on Carol and Harge in an intimate embrace  
> 3\. Therese and Carol had some angry sex in which they both attempted to wrestle the power from the other  
> 4\. Therese came to get the drawings she left at Carol's (in italics at the beginning, you may recognize it as it is an excerpt from an earlier chapter in which I introduced this whole situation)

_Carol swiped her hand across the counter, stopped just before the edge, contemplating, then proceeded, sending some nondescript crumbs and other debris onto the floor. She felt a sting and instantly remembered. She lifted her hand to study the deep red cut that sliced across one of the natural lines on her palm boldly, inserting itself into the permanent character of her hand. She wondered if the scar would still be there in a month. A year. Ten years. Of course it would. It would deface her palm for the rest of her life, no matter how faint or nearly painless it eventually became._

_There was a sudden shuffling outside the apartment door followed immediately by the soft click of the release of the door lock. Therese came in, holding her portfolio in one hand as she pushed the door open with the other. She was looking at the ground, door banging lightly against her side awkwardly, the uninhibited and careless motions of someone who knew they were coming in to an empty space - the comfort and protection of solitude. As she lowered the portfolio to the ground, the keys fell out of her hand. She bent to pick them up, and on her way back to standing she caught Carol’s figure and froze, looking alarmed for a fraction of a second. Her expression changed from neutral to guarded immediately, and she straightened her shoulders and settled into a direct stare at Carol. The six or eight feet between them felt like miles. After several painful moments of just looking at one another, Therese picked up the portfolio and walked into the guest room. Carol followed her, a lone figure in the doorway watching Therese pile her drawings neatly and slide them into her portfolio with care._

_“Why are you doing this?” Carol kept her eyes on her, waiting for Therese to look up. When she did, Carol was struck by the emotionless daze of Therese’s eyes._

_“You did it.”_

* * *

 

 

Therese dropped her portfolio in her bedroom and looked around at her things. The bed was only loosely made, the covers thrown up carelessly and partially covering the pillows. There was a very faint black spot on one of them. When she went over to look closer, she saw that it was mascara, a few wispy lines from what must have been just a few light flutters against it. She hadn’t washed the sheets since the last time Carol was in it. Carol rarely stayed in her apartment, and she insisted she would only do so when Noelle and Dylan were away. Until this moment, Therese had never thought about the fact that they were away constantly, and even so they still almost always ended up in Carol’s apartment. The black lines seemed huge and imposing, a barrage of movement in an otherwise completely still room. Carol hadn’t slept over that night; the mascara flutter was a result of a lazy afternoon in bed talking and laughing and looking at each other. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, and it only served to anger Therese the more she stared at it.

She stripped the bed with purpose, immediately throwing the sheets in the washing machine and leaving the duvet and pillows in a disorganized heap on the floor. She grabbed her purse and walked out the door, not really knowing where she was going to go. She needed to escape this apartment, this building, Carol. No one was on the elevator when she got on, but the doors came to a stop on the sixth floor and an elderly woman stepped in. She carried a frail-looking newspaper and an expensive but old-fashioned looking purse hung from her small shoulder. She was clearly wealthy, refined - and _old_. Therese wondered if she lived alone. Perhaps she had a husband who sat and read that newspaper that morning, and she had taken it to go sit on a park bench and enjoy the sun, or perhaps to a coffee shop to meet a friend. She realized she was staring at the woman and her deep wrinkles, hidden in part by her meticulously styled hair. Therese felt a pang of pain, and then a dull feeling of sadness that she was desperate to shake.

When the elevator stopped in the lobby, Therese smiled and gestured for the woman to exit first. Therese pulled out her phone. Nothing. No calls, no text messages. When she directed her attention forward again, she caught a glimpse of the old woman dropping the newspaper into the trash as she walked out the door.

 

* * *

 

The phone rang loudly in the empty kitchen. Carol sprinted from the bathroom, mascara in hand. The eyelashes on one eye looked like a black spider about to devour the naked lashes on the other, threatening to consume them in their weakness. She lunged for the phone on the counter. It was Harge.

“What?” Carol answered curtly.

“Oh - what’s wrong?”

“You should know what’s wrong,” Carol almost shouted, “I can’t fucking imagine how you could say that.”

“I’m sorry.” Harge’s voice was quiet.

She breathed in and and decided in an instant to use that very exhale to just be out with it. She couldn’t keep avoiding it.

“We have- I have to stop seeing you. I can’t -” She stopped and closed her eyes, wincing as she rubbed the bottom of her palm against her forehead. Carol waited a few seconds, not sure of what to say next. There was silence on the other end of the line.

“I can’t see you anymore. It’s fucking up my life. I can’t have you in my life _and_ keep my relationship. And- I _have_ to keep this relationship. It’s the only one I haven’t completely fucked up.” She didn’t know if that was still even true.

Harge’s voice was still small when he spoke next.

“Is it a healthy relationship if you have to cut other people out of your life?”

What could have been an accusatory question sounded unsure and desperate coming from Harge. Carol was suddenly exhausted and filled with a dull, spreading feeling of hopelessness. She felt utterly trapped, like she was both the star and the spectator of the movie of her own life - she could see how much she struggled and fell, but maintained the small circle of habit laden with cracks and ruts from overuse and countless disasters. The Carol watching from outside the window knew there was a place outside the circle, but no matter how much she banged and clawed and screamed at that window, the Carol inside kept her eyes on her same dizzying, tortured path.

“I have to go.” She straightened up and walked towards the kitchen, ready to hang up.

“What about the firm? You can’t just automatically disconnect. You still have commitments.”

“I don’t run the damn firm anymore, Harge!” She was impatient to end the conversation, but realized he was right, she would have to disentangle herself and it would take sorting through some logistics since she was still loosely tied to the firm both financially and personally. “I’ll figure it out. Just don’t call me. Don’t keep doing this to me.”

For the first time in a while, Harge’s tone turned angry. “Do this to you? To _you_? Fuck you.” He hung up.

Carol was somewhat shocked at his reaction. How dare he speak to her that way? He was the reason she was in this situation. He was the reason Therese wasn’t talking to her. He had kissed her. For some reason, Carol thought of a conversation she had with her mother just before she married Harge. As they sat having a drink in a hotel bar, her mother told her that she should watch out for women who got too close to a taken man - money attracted loose women and they would make every attempt to lure a man away from his wife. People who would try to separate a family were all that was wrong with the world, and that you can’t let them win. That she worked very hard to maintain their family for Carol and her brother.

Carol could remember a glass of bourbon in her mother’s slender, slightly wrinkled hand suspended in midair between the table and her mouth, pausing for just a few moments, during which time her mother stared directly into Carol’s eyes with an intensity Carol had never seen before. Her mother was trying to communicate something that she felt she couldn’t speak aloud, but Carol couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

She understood now. Her mother had used all the women her father had been with over the course of their marriage as objects of anger and disdain instead of placing the blame where it belonged - on her father. She was telling Carol that being married to a wealthy man and maintaining the lifestyle she was used to would take sacrifice. Infidelity was part of the risk you took entering into a relationship and marriage, even inevitable, and it was to be dealt with quietly. Despite not understanding her mother at that time, she had been living by a version of that value all of her adult life. She didn’t blame herself for cheating on Harge repeatedly. She didn’t necessarily blame all the girls for luring her, but she gave herself a pass over and over. Harge should understand how real life worked.

She put the phone down on the cold granite counter and stared at it. She came to the realization that although she blamed Harge for all of this, and although she expected Therese to see that it wasn’t Carol’s fault, she couldn’t shake the image of her mother’s stare all those years ago. Her father was to blame for all those dalliances. She was the one who allowed Harge to kiss her. She was the one who made the choice to be unfaithful. And she was the one to blame for the current state of her relationship with Therese.

 

* * *

 

When Therese got to work the next morning, she threw her coat down on her desk and turned to walk to the kitchen. As she pulled out a mug for coffee, Jasmine strolled in, dressed in a black wrap dress that came to her knees. A gold pendant hung on her chest, a small and intricate design that Therese had to take a moment to understand. It had several tiny pictures on it - a bird, the number seven, a leaf, the letter H. It was bizarre and out of character, and Therese started to look away and caught Jasmine’s eye. She smiled at Therese.

“How’s Carol?”

It was bold, obvious, unrefined, and like a stab to the chest. She wasn’t even attempting to be delicate. Therese knew she knew that Carol had been pushed out, and now she was prodding Therese with it - and sloppily. Perhaps she was too tired out by her own cuntiness to come up with a more nuanced approach.

“Good.” Therese didn’t expand.

“I’m going to miss her.” Jasmine leaned against the counter and Therese could feel her eyes on her. She looked into them fiercely and held her ground for several moments. Hearing these words out of Jasmine’s beautiful, perfect lips made her irate. She took her mug off the counter and started back to the studio without adding her usual milk. She actually wanted the coffee black today.

 

* * *

 

Around 10am, her phone dinged. It was Carol.

C: I don’t want to call you at work and disrupt you, but I need to talk to you.

Therese put the phone back down and resumed drawing her proposed logo for one of the “eco-conscious” cosmetics companies that Johnson was trying to woo. She had seven of the twelve versions shaded, but as she picked up the eighth and looked at her bare stark outlines against the paper, she had the sudden urge to cry.

She picked up her phone.

T: I have to finish these drawings today. I probably won’t be done until after 7. Carol responded immediately.

C: Any time. Let me know when you get out. Do you want me to come to you? Or you can come by anytime you want.

Therese decided to give herself some time to decide whether she wanted to have this conversation in Carol’s apartment or not. She didn’t respond for over an hour.

T: You come to me. I’ll let you know when you can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please share your thoughts!


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